Mend
by TheSouthernScribe
Summary: The END! Mend is finished.
1. Chapter 1

_I am back. I said I wasn't going to post it yet. I was going to wait. If I was a man, you could call this premature...you know the rest. It's burning a hole in the documents on my computer. I have to put it up._

_This story picks up about six months after About Last Night ends…_

**_Disclaimer - As always...I don't own them...or profit from them monetarily_**

**Mend**

**Chapter 1 – In Case of Emergency**

Christine ate with her mouth open and carried on a conversation like it was perfectly acceptable to show the world half eaten food, mixed with saliva, and caked on to your teeth. Spock shuddered at the sight. He became ill. This relationship, arrangement, or convenient fling had run its course. She was in the middle of a story that she had misjudged as funny when his cell phone vibrated on the table. Without thinking, he retrieved the device, touched the screen, and accepted the call. Christine continued to talk and Spock lost him self in the words on the other end of the phone.

_Accident…_

_Injury…_

_Nyota…_

_Emergency…_

Spock drove in fear. Scared that the radio would silence the voices in his head; he refused to press the button to fill the car with unnecessary sounds. His foot tapped the brakes, not to slow the car down, but to lessen the noise of the tires against the asphalt. He couldn't think. Nyota had been injured but more importantly the hospital had called him, not Doctor McCoy.

Was there a deeper meaning he was missing?

He saw the blue signs with the white 'H' and knew that his destination was near.

Spock recalled the last time he had rushed to the hospital. That had resulted in the death of his mother. The woman who said he never deserved Nyota. She was correct.

Nyota, the wide eyed student who admired his extensive vocabulary and his stoic demeanor; the very first day they met.

Nyota the woman that taught him it was okay to laugh at your own expense.

Nyota the love he had lost due to lust.

Spock's hands gripped the steering wheel tighter. Now she was with Leonard McCoy, before she had engaged in a brief physical relationship with his brother. He couldn't hate her, his appetite pushed her away. Sybok was sure to deliver all of the intimate details of the short affair with Nyota. Spock had burned with anger that was directed inward. Nyota was doing the same thing he had, creating a breach between them that could not be repaired.

He stood at the nurse's desk for what felt like hours. Finally the woman acknowledged his presence directing him to a row of makeshift rooms separated by pastel striped curtains. She was in the middle room on the left.

Spock pulled back the curtain. Nyota was curled in a ball with her back to doorway. A thin blanket covering her delicate frame reminded him of her physical frailty when her emotional weakness had been at the forefront of his mind during the entire drive. Her shoulder was peeking out of the hospital gown. A small bandage was visible and blood from the underlying wound was seeping through. When she turned to face him, her lip was busted and the bruising had already started to form on forehead.

"Why are you here?"

Nyota winced from the pain she was obviously feeling.

"They called."

Spock held up the phone still clutched tightly in his hand.

Nyota looked as confused as a person in discomfort could without creating more aches than necessary. She tried to sit.

"Don't move."

Spock rushed to help her and noticed that she flinched when his hands came in contact with her body. This is what they had become; touching her use to be a welcomed necessity on both their parts.

The doctor pulled back the curtain, eyes engrossed in the pages on the clipboard in front of him. The man nodded at Spock and finally his vision settled on Nyota before he turned his attention back to Spock. She hated to be ignored or disregarded. He could hear her seething from the bed.

"Ms. Uhura will be fine. It looks much worse than it is. We'll get her moved to a room in the next hour."

The man in the green scrubs left before either of them could ask why he had been called. Through the fog clouding her mind, Nyota realized the answer.

"I never changed the ICE contact in my cell. It's still you."

Spock took a seat on the stool meant for the doctor. He was still concerned. A part of Spock, an extremely large part of him, wanted to embrace Nyota and shield her from any more harm, but that was no longer his job. She watched him watch her and something in her face softened.

"What's wrong?"

There they were in a hospital Emergency Room and the one battered and bruised asked the uninjured party what's wrong.

"I miss you."


	2. Chapter 2

_Many thanks to an awesome beta with strong affection for red mark ups in Word - hugs and kisses Ms. Fangs…_

_A special thank you to everyone who read and reviewed the first chapter, the Ki loves you too. _

_A warning, this story is going to be a deep, emotional journey..._

* * *

**Chapter 2 – Necessary Presence**

"Spock."

It was Nyota's standard response. The way she said his name let him know she was cushioning the blow because he no longer held a place in her life. There was emphasis on the first two letters of his name and the rest were drowned out in the crushing effort it took for her to remain conscious in spite of the pain. It was soft and dripping with compassion in spite of her current condition. He regretted being forthcoming when she inquired about what was disturbing him. She was being polite and he wanted to bare his soul. It was true, he missed her, more than he would ever be able to express with mere words. Maybe if Nyota could walk around in his head, she would fully understand the emotions and fears that had forced him into that fateful decision in their final weeks together.

Spock had stopped 'stalking' Nyota after his conversation with Leonard McCoy. The doctor loved Nyota in a way that she had always wanted. More importantly she returned his affections. The time that they had spent romantically involved was over, but the reminder played over and over in his head like a broken record, and Spock couldn't help longing for the companionship he once shared with Nyota as her friend. He rose from his seat beside her bed.

"Let me call the nurse to get you something for the pain."

Nyota's hand shot up, grabbing the sleeve of his jacket. He understood her reaction immediately. She did not believe in pain medicine, for fear of addiction. Leonard McCoy's name crossed his mind,

And in a strange way- his own demise could be attributed to an addiction of another sort.

Sexual experiences had become a compulsion of sorts for them both. The curiosity ignited by discussions with his mentor Nero, sent him down a path with Christine; one he was desperately trying to end.

Nyota had spent her time as a single woman battling the demons of the past with other men, before deciding on something that could be described as celibacy. Clarity, a life of lucidity, that's what she had called it. Nyota had seen what alcohol and destructive actions had done to those closest to her – him included. What it had done to all of their lives. Spock closed his eyes, warring with him self.

Leonard McCoy's name crossed his mind again and he worked to stifle the tumult of thoughts and emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He needed to contact the man, and make him aware of Nyota's condition.

"What is Doctor McCoy's number? He should be here with you."

He watched as she clenched her teeth, fighting off another wave of pain before falling back into the bed. "Home. He should be home with Joanna.

Her hand dropped from his arm and he retreated to the hallway to make the call. Already his mind was clearing with distance between them.

When McCoy answered the phone, Spock could hear the question in his voice, but the doctor pushed aside his suspicions to pull any and all information regarding Nyota. The call ended abruptly. Spock had heard the doctor rushing around the apartment, tripping over furniture, gathering a bag of Nyota's things, and begging his daughter to hurry and tie her shoes. There was no doubt that his arrival would take place in record time.

Next, he allowed his fingers to scroll to the number for the museum. His call with Hikaru did not go as smoothly, but he knew another person she called friend would need to be here to support her. The man had asked if he was to blame for her injuries. Spock had growled a 'no' into the receiver with such emotion that it had caught the other man off guard and caused him to respond, "I always knew you were an animal. No one could be human and treat people the way you do." And Spock was silenced. He knew he deserved the man's reproach, but it didn't make it any easier to swallow.

He was about to dial the number to Pike's before remembering that Gaila and Jim were both out of the country on a belated honeymoon. And he contemplated calling her parents but didn't see a need in creating frenzy; he would leave that decision to Nyota. The doctor had discussed her condition with certain lightness earlier, so things did not appear to be too serious.

Spock rolled his head and shoulders, attempting to relieve the tension mounting in his upper body. The doctor was in front of him again; caressing his clipboard like his favorite lover. Spock's eyebrow lifted and he couldn't help but think about Nyota's amusement at the common motion. In the past, in happier times, they had been able to carry on an entire conversation with facial expressions and no words.

"Ms. Uhura's room is ready. I assume that you are her significant other." Before he had a chance to reply, another voice cut him off.

"No, that would be me." Leonard McCoy was standing directly behind the attending physician, eyes glazed in anger, and his hand gripping that of his daughter's. The little girl was all smiles and curiosity as she stared at Spock.

"McCoy…" The emergency room doctor warmly greeted his colleague. "This is the lady you keep talking about?" He pointed towards the room where Nyota lay.

"Yes Riley, what happened?" McCoy shot another icy glare in Spock's direction. "Did he-"

"No McCoy. Ms. Uhura was sideswiped by a delivery truck. Her car ran off the street into a lamp post."

Joanna released her father's grip and slid past the curtain into the room with Nyota; leaving a small opening that made her actions visible to everyone in the hall. Spock watched as the little girl climbed on the bed, cautiously touching Nyota's face and bandages. His heart hurt, watching their exchange. Even in pain, Nyota pushed past that to give McCoy's daughter the reassurance she needed that everything was going to okay. He envied the child that curled next to the woman on the bed. In another time, another place…and better decisions…Joanna could have been their child together…

The doctor's voice interrupted Spock's thoughts as he discussed Nyota's accident.

"The seatbelt saved her life. She would have gone through the windshield if not for the restraint." He clapped his fellow doctor's shoulder, "We're going to keep her overnight for observation. You can stay with her."

The doctor and his chart moved past Spock and down the hallway. The two men, one former lover and the current stood staring at each other in tense silence. After a long pause, it was McCoy who spoke first.

"I appreciate the call Spock." Leonard kept casting his eyes to watch the two girls that controlled his heart.

"You would have done the same." he replied flatly. Inwardly, jealousy, envy, and regret were swirling around his chest.

He turned to leave.

"Aren't you going to say goodbye?" The man's voice was gruff but held something that Spock detested- pity.

The reply was curt. And laced with bitterness he refused to control.

"Nyota has everything she needs. My presence is no longer necessary."


	3. Chapter 3

_You know what happens when you try to do too much at one time. You screw up royally. Third time is a charm. That's what I hear. _

_Thanks to the readers and reviewers. _

Much love to a talented beta, thank you LadyFangs.

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 3 – Father of Mine**

"Father."

Spock's voice rang out in the foyer and only his echo returned. The sun was just beginning to set and dark shadows were cast about the house. Traces of the warmth and love that were present when his mother was alive and walking the expansive halls were long forgotten. Amanda's smiles and muffled laughs had been replaced by dust and despair.

The formal living room reserved for the visits of important guests and dignitaries sat untouched. The furniture pristine and in place, while family photos lined the walls, and hid the shame enclosed in every beam of the home. The picture Nyota had returned to Spock after their breakup was posted on the mantel with Sarek and Amanda's wedding photo. Spock traced the lines of his former lover's face, wishing for a simpler time. A happier place instead of his present state of desolation.

The only son of Amanda and Sarek treaded through the halls, the only sound the echo of his footsteps on the hardwood floors as he made his way silently to the massive kitchen located in the rear of the house. Carefully Spock placed the bag of takeout on the counter while surveying his surroundings. There was at least three days worth of dirty dishes with clumps of dried fool on them shoved in one side of the sink. The incessant drip of the faucet had created a pool of dirty water on the side containing no dishes. Mold had formed on the top of the coffee still in the pot and the offensive stench in the room made his stomach turn. He opened the refrigerator and found the same gallon of milk that had been present the week before. The only other food was a bag of grapes that could now be claimed as a dependent on his father's taxes due to the amount of time they had spent residing on the shelves of the stainless steel chiller.

Spock sighed, shrugged off his jacket, pushed up the sleeves of his shirt, and began the task of making the kitchen fit for dinner with his father. He drained the water in the sink and washed the dishes by hand, careful not to damage or break the china. He emptied the coffee pot, disinfected the unit, and cleaned out the refrigerator. Before warming their meal, Spock compiled a list of his father's favorite foods, called the housekeeper, and left detailed instructions for the following day. It had become a weekly routine. So much so that he knew where to find his missing father.

He walked outside towards the gardens that Amanda once poured her heart into were now withered and dead. Dried brown stems shot up stubbornly from the mass of unraked dead leaves lying on the groud. With each step he took, the crunch of decay met his ears. At one time it had been a means for her to heal the soul that had been destroyed by the transgressions of her family. Now it was just a token of remembrance that after all the years of feigned happiness, only the ugliness of lies stood the test of time.

Among the bare branches and shriveled flowers sat Sarek. He was positioned on his wife's favorite bench, staring out at the spot on the horizon that once held the sun. He called out:

"Father."

Sarek did not respond. He remained silent as he stared off in the distance. Spock's father had become a shell of the man he once was. He was no longer confident. No longer proud and elegant he lacked the life he'd possessed during the last years he had spent with his wife. He was depressed. He was alone. He was a ghost of the future that Spock could expect if his own life did not change drastically.

Spock moved closer to Sarek, "Father." He said quietly, gently resting his hand on the older man's shoulder.

His father turned to face him. The dark circles evident under bloodshot eyes. His face wet with the tears he had obviously shed before his son's arrival.

Sarek did not attempt to smile. There was no energy left in the man to operate under false pretenses.

"Please come eat, dinner is waiting."

Son escorted father to the table where they partook of their meal without words or simple pleasantries.

Spock watched quietly as his father poked at his Eggplant Parmesan, pushing it around the table. It could not compare to the favorite dish his mother once prepared for her husband, but he hoped that it would cause the man to focus on a time in his life that once brought joy.

"Nyota was injured in an accident today." Even if Sarek was not in the condition to offer advice or wisdom, Spock needed to discuss the events of the day as well as the feelings that they had stirred up deep within him.

A look of fear struck Sarek. It was the same helpless look that had resided on his face that fateful evening in the emergency room.

He hurried to offer reassurance to his father. "She is recovering in the hospital. They just wanted to keep her overnight for observation. Her condition is not serious or life threatening."

"I will send Nyota a nice arrangement of flowers; to let her know our thoughts are with her." The man offered absently, an edge of disappointment in his voice. Although Sarek would never admit to his son, Spock was well aware that a piece of his father grieved for the loss of Nyota's presence in his family's life.

"Your gifts are not needed." There was a bite to his words and it came out harder than he had intended. Although what happened in his relationship with Nyota was not directly attributed to his father's actions, Spock believed that Sarek held a portion of the blame.

There were things that the young man had seen in the past, experiences that had shaped his idea of what it meant to commit to another human being. It was also his father's past friendship with Nero that created an academic partnership between Spock and the professor. Spock's introduction to Nero in his youth, coupled with his father's devotion to the man established an undeserved bond of trust.

It was Spock's turn to poke and prod at the food on his plate. There was no need for pretense. The silence between the two men spoke volumes.

"I hope one day you will forgive me." Sarek's voice sounded like a faint whisper; a voice on the television in the other room. Surely the man in front of Spock had not spoken words that attributed to his guilt. "I did not provide a suitable example for you."

Spock swallowed the growing lump lodged in his throat, wanting to desperately change the course of the conversation. "Are you finished with your meal?" He was standing now, retrieving the dishes from the table.

"You can no longer run from this conversation my son; it is one we both must face."

Spock froze, and the plates he held broke into pieces as they connected with the marble tile of the kitchen floor.

Quickly he moved to clean up the mess, grabbing at the broken shards of what used to be Amanda's favorite china…it was as if he was scrambling to pick up the broken pieces of his life…

Sarek rose to assist in the task and together the two men cleaned the mess that had been created before moving to settle on the bench where they both felt closer to Amanda's presence. The night air was cold and swirled around them and after a while of staring out at the blackness of night, Sarek once again started to speak. And Spock listened as the sounds of consonants and vowels leaving his father's lips carried him back to where it all began.


	4. Chapter 4

_Love to my awesome beta LadyFangs_

_This is a flashback chapter..._

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 4 – Sins of the Father, Pt. 1**

The woman was beautiful.

Her red hair spilled over her shoulders in waves as she laughed. Her eyes were a deep shade of green, accentuated by flecks of gold, while her lips were as red as the crayon in the little boy's hand. He was drawing a heart held by two people who were supposed to be his mother and father.

But the red-haired woman was not his mother. The woman looked on, patting down the cowlick flying up in the middle of his head. She laughed- and while the little boy normally loved to hear laughter, especially that of his mother, something about this woman's voice made him nervous. He started away from her touch. He wanted to cry. He saw his father walked up behind the woman and wrap his arms around her waist, whispering in the ear covered by that mountain of fire red hair. She laughed again- and the child started to cry.

His father quickly reprimanded him in his native tongue. A rebuke filled with aggravation and a slight hint of hatred. He couldn't understand his father's anger. Couldn't he see he was _afraid_? Another child, his older brother, came and grabbed his hand and ushered him out the room.

"_Toot, just be quiet, and father will take us for ice cream on the way home."_

Young Spock began to cry again. This time it was a wail. Loud enough for his father to enter the room and deliver a hard smack across his son's face. The tears stopped, the sobs became choked hiccups, and the little boy understood immediately. Sybok attempted to comfort his brother, but the younger child's fear had coalesced to something different. He had been _rejected_- by his father. His father was supposed to _love_ him… He responded to his brother's comfort in the same manner his father had responded to him- with a slap.

Sybok just looked at him. Hurt in his eyes, but nowhere else on his face.

"_Just like daddy." _

The older child sulked and locked him self in the bathroom for the remainder of the visit to red headed lady's home.

Later they rode home in silence, only interrupted by their father's voice.

"There are some things that remain between a father and his sons."

Sarek's words echoed in his two young sons ears as the quiet resumed in the backseat of the tinted Lincoln. When they returned to their family home, Spock noticed that his father did not greet his mother with a kiss. His father acknowledged her presence, with a nod, and walked past her- headed for the stairs. An hour later he returned, freshly showered, casually dressed, and ready to bestow affection to his family. That affection was not welcome.

Spock's mother refused her husband's advances and the child saw his father grab her by the arm and pull her towards him- forcing her into a kiss. She did not respond with laughter like the red- headed lady. In fact the embrace ended in heated words and tears. His mother screamed accusations his young ears did not understand; discussions about words he did not know…_deception_ and _infidelity_…

A week later Spock sat at the dining room table of the red head that giggled and bubbled over with happiness when his father came around; her name was Denise. She had told Spock to call her Denise when he asked to go to the restroom. His father had threatened him with punishment if he misbehaved during the visit. Sybok had returned to his mother, and was not with him, leaving the child alone with his coloring books and action figures. He attempted to drown out the muffled sounds and whispered voices…the subtle creeks of springs and muted moans with the noise of play from the figures in his hands.

He didn't know why, but the tears started again. He pressed his hands against his mouth, forcing the growing sobs back down his throat. He heard the tap of his father's patent leather shoes against the wood grained floors in the woman's home. Bracing for the impact of the back of his father's hand, the boy was surprised when he found that he was being picked up and cuddled against his father's chest and they headed out of the woman's door.

Spock never saw Denise again.

* * *

"Maybe we'll have a sister."

Spock babbled on as he talked to his older brother Sybok. They were five years apart. Sybok was twelve and Spock seven. Amanda's growing stomach had become more noticeable in recent weeks. The little boy found that he was excited by the promise of a new child to take on the baby role in the family. He wanted to be a big brother. His mother was busy decorating the nursery. His father's visits to friends had ceased. And for the first time he could remember- their family was happy.

The baby would arrive in winter. Close to Christmas and Spock couldn't think of a better present. The days grew longer and his mother's belly got larger.

Then Amanda was confined to the bed for fear that over exertion would cause her to lose the baby. Sarek's time at home began to decrease and Young Spock watched as she grew more depressed; often requesting that he and Sybok join her to watch movies as they waited for his father's return. Many nights Sarek's arrival would take place in the wee hours of the morning.

The voices of Spock's parents would escalate to muted screams. Finally his mother would be reduced to tears. He hid in his room. Crying softly by the door. It was one such morning the pain came, followed by sirens, and a visit to the sanitized halls of the hospital. When they returned home, the belly the little boy had rubbed in hope had disappeared. The baby had gone to heaven. He tried to comfort his mother.

"_Don't worry mommy, Jesus will give us another one." _

His words had sent his mother into a fit of tears behind the closed doors of her

bedroom for weeks.

"There will be no more children for this family." That was the only response Sarek had offered at the time.

* * *

Spock was fourteen when he first met Nero.

"He's an insane son of a bitch."

That was Sybok's warning when he heard where his brother was headed.

"Father says that he is one of his closest friends."

"You and your acceptance of Sarek and his twisted ways, have you forgotten everything you've seen? Denise. The little sister we never had?" Sybok was in his brother's face, nostrils flaring, and eyes wide.

"You should respect the man who provides for you." Spock continued in a monotone, pecking away at the keyboard of the computer.

"You're doomed little brother," came the disgusted reply as Sybok grabbed his duffle bag and disappeared from the family home.

When Sarek and Spock returned home that evening, the young man was experienced. His father's friend had arranged for a set of encounters for the boy. It was something that Spock's father had not agreed upon and Sarek's anger was obvious and disquieting. Soon the men were estranged. But the bond between Nero and Spock began to grow. The older man took Spock under his wing, unwilling to believe that years of friendship had ended with Sarek. He would council the boy on the ways of men. The child was intelligent and naïve.

By sixteen Spock had an unnatural grasp of World History and women. He was graduating from high school, enrolling in the local university, and enjoying the harem of women that surrounded Nero.

That is, until the day Nyota Uhura crossed his path. She had openly defied Nero during class, disassembled the man's thesis for the entire quarter in five minutes. She was beautiful, brilliant, and everything that Spock had ever wanted in a companion. He worked hard to keep her from Nero, keeping their relationship a secret for six months. During that time, Spock continued to feast on Nero's offerings - always taking his pick of the delights Nero provided. He was keeping up appearances, and even when the older man questioned him about his attachment to the young student, Spock blew it off as a crush.

"It is nothing of great importance." Spock felt as if a knife was twisting in his side when he lied about what the beautiful woman with deep brown eyes meant to him. He tried to block those eyes out with mind numbing sexual experiences. Only to feel empty and unclean when they ended- _was this what his father felt when he returned home?_

_But he could not block her out. She was ever there…and those eyes…he felt naked to her. As if she could see straight through him down to the pits of his soul…and he feared what she would find there._

Nero convinced him that he was not the problem- _she_ was. He said she needed to be broken to love him properly. That only a woman who had been tested and tried would be capable of loving a man fully and accepting his role in the family. Spock found the argument logical. And it had empirical evidence. After all, his mother had endured the same test and reaped the reward by remaining as the cherished wife of Ambassador Sarek. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for Nero's other half, who, Spock would later learn, died years before-a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head.


	5. Chapter 5

_A special thank you to a great beta who gets what's going on inside of my head and what I'm trying to convey in these words. I appreciate your support and efforts. You're not just a beta but an executive producer. _

_My dear readers you get two very deep and emotional chapters today. I'm off tomorrow. I will be avoiding all email and computers like the plague so no one can force me to do any work on my day. It will be next week before see anything on Mend again. Put your seatbelts on it's about to get rocky. I know I've said it before but these next two chapters really caused an emotional response while I was working on them. So be prepared for RAW._

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 5 – Sins of the Father, Pt. 2**

Spock found it hard to breathe. The conversation was overpowering. Since his mother's death, Sarek had tried to initiate this conversation on quite a few occasions- only to have his son walk way, ignore him, or simply end the discussion before it began. Now, he could no longer run from the truth- and the power and the pain behind his father's every word dredged up long-repressed memories from the recesses of his mind. Incidents he had buried due to his own shame and disgust- both of his actions, and his father's. He was in turmoil, the bitter sting of tears in his eyes. But he was too stubborn to allow them to fall. He allowed his eyes to close and his breath to slow as he attempted, yet again, to block out his father's voice.

But it wouldn't go away.

"I never wanted my life for you, Spock. Daily I suffer, not just from the loss of the only woman who dared to love me, but for the purity of your childhood. I stole that from you. I had no right."

There it was.

In a matter of an hour Sarek managed to tear down the walls his youngest son had spent a lifetime erecting- leaving open and bare the source of all his son's anger.

Spock's fists balled up as he seriously contemplated the number ways he could cause bodily harm to his father. He hated him. And yet, he felt ashamed of his hate. He loved him- yet he felt ashamed of the love. And he yearned for something, _anything_ that would reflect the significance of the rejection and isolation he had endured over the years.

The pain that stemmed from seeing the mother who loved him without condition, shrink like a dying violet in desiccated soil.

The disgust and revulsion for the animal he had become.

The self-hate at how he had forced the woman who put meaning back into life out of his world- Nyota.

His knuckles were white from the tightness in his fists; the nails of his fingers were ripping through the skin of his palms and the pressure was increasing in his chest-full of all the hurt of a lifetime of wrongs welling inside him and yearning to break free. Still, he fought- waging an inner war against himself. Amanda had once called it _spiritual_ warfare…. Again Spock relished in self- inflicted pain.

"Why are you telling me this?" He barked out hoarsely through clenched teeth, trying desperately for some semblance of calm that would not come.

His father's next words were unexpected.

Sarek's touch was tender, and his words sincere as his own sadness at his faults bled through and he gingerly placed his hand on top of his son's, "I am sorry for my sins my child. I've spent the last years reaping the consequences of what I've done."

The minimal words evoked deep emotion from the younger man and he reacted with anger- pure, unadulterated and violent anger. He rose quickly, shirking his father's touch and turned to face him. The dam had broken and the hurt and fury poured forth like a flood he could no longer control.

"I lived in the shadow of your mistakes! I _lost_ Nyota trying to be the man you were! The man _you _taught me to be!" He began backing away from where they sat trying desperately to stop the flow of tears and his own quaking soul from breaking. Spock's hands came up to his mouth pushing the shaky breaths and snivels wracking his body back down his throat. "I wanted to_**be**_ you."

Sarek's lips tightened and tears welled to the corners of his eyes as he faced the man-child before him. "Nero's inclusion of you in his _perversions_-" the older man spit the words, highlighting his disgust at his participation, "- _that_ was my breaking point."

"It was too late." Spock's words were a bitter whisper. And he desperately wished he could erase the day- strike the conversation from his mind, purge himself of the bitterness in his soul…but yet Sarek continued, now in a whisper as if reminiscing.

"It becomes addictive- their kisses – the adventure – the taboo." The older man's face clouded over into a stone wall laced with determination and the certainty of a man who spoke the next words with absolute conviction.

"If I had it to do over, I would choose your mother every time. I would choose my sons. Our family. I would choose the life we could have had together. We could have gone back to the old country…"

"Those are just the bitter ramblings of an old man who can no longer get it up!" Spock spat viciously, leaving his father alone on the bench and stalking angrily towards the faint light illuminating the family's home.

"Years ago I lied to you." Sarek's words stopped Spock mid step. But he refused to turn around. His father's voice rose above the winds, now whipping between the two men.

"I told you that my relationship with your mother was about power and possession. The truth is, I loved your mother. I fought for our marriage in the end because of the reflection of myself I saw in her eyes. Despite my faults, to her I was a man not a monster. In Amanda's eyes I saw the young man who swept her off her feet during a student exchange trip in Rome. In her eyes I was the father to the children she loved and cherished. There and only there was I the man God created me to be. I saw in her a reflection of a man I wanted to be again."

Spock shook his head, unable to pity his father, "You loved her and still-" The words caught in his throat and he choked back a sob. He thought about the nights his mother cried her self to sleep. The warnings she issued to Nyota to run far away from the stench surrounding their family and to leave him before the stain of the past tarnished her forever. Amanda did not want Nyota to become like her.

"I spent fifteen years apologizing for actions that were unforgivable. Amanda accepted each one, waving them away with kisses, and soft words. All that time, the man she saw in me was still present in her eyes and now that's gone. I look in my son's eyes, my creation- my legacy. The only one who will still tolerate me, and see I see the predator that I've created. It is my punishment."

Sarek had lowered his head as if trying to will up enough strength to continue. And despite himself, Spock had begun to inch closer to his father. He knew Sarek well, and knew the elder was forming a question in his mind. Spock knew the question to come, but he would not speak of his own accord. The anger and hurt now slowly fading out until all he felt- was empty. .

"What happened with Ms. Uhura? I was hopeful that she would provide a turning point in the road you traveled."

Spock migrated back to his seat, taking a few moments to find the correct approach. "Nyota did open my eyes."

"Then why did the relationship end?" Sarek was staring, awaiting his son's response.

"I cannot provide the love she requires." Spock replied dully.

Pure fury lit the older man's eyes, "And that broke emergency room doctor …"

Spock raised his hand silencing his father, "Nyota is happy- she is _loved _- she is protected- she has peace. I would rather see her receiving everything she needed, wanted, and deserved than to hold on to her for my own selfish reasons. I cannot give her a future. I am not what she needs."

An expression oddly resembling pride danced onto Sarek's face and he raised hopeful eyes to his son's. His words were like prophecy. "You will be a better man than I ever was or could be."

It was not what he wanted to hear. And the grief from his loss of Nyota sprung as fresh as the day she left him. He could not blame everything on the sins of the father- the sins of the son were many.

He was now back by his father, his shoulders slumped in defeat, head down, hands clasped tightly together, and tears pouring down his eyes. He could not bring himself to look up as he spoke the truth he longed to forget.

"I hurt her. I subjected her to things-" Spock paused, his thoughts drifting back to the Valentine's ball, Nero's home, and those months he shared himself openly with Christine.

"I allowed Nero into the sanctity of the intimate moments between us. I pulled another woman- a lesser woman into the life we shared. I pushed her away from me, because like my mother, Nyota would never leave. She would stay, willingly, praying without ceasing for me to become something better than I am. I did not want to continue to allow her to believe I am something I am not."

The blood drained from Sarek's face, and he looked like walking death, "Tell me everything. I need to know it all. What Nero said…your actions…how deeply did this game involve Nyota?"

"He…" Spock hesitated, memories of that darkened room filling his tortured mind.

The feel of Nero's eyes on them as he watched him make love to Nyota. The scents and sounds that filled the room as the man pleasured himself in response to the way Spock pleasured her. It was an act that should have been private. With ever growing bitterness he spoke of how Nero had laughed openly as Nyota had turned to face a wall and cried to herself as Spock wrapped his arms around her to protect her nude body from Nero's lascivious eyes. How he had accepted Christine when Nero gave her to him, and how, no matter how many times he took Nyota's body in an attempt to pay penance for his sins- he felt unclean. And finally Spock shared the night of the graduation party with Sarek. The brokenness in Nyota's eyes that complemented the sound of Spock's frozen heart shattering into pieces.

He cried openly now- for the first time since he was that child, crying by door of his room as his mother grieved for the sister he would never have. Since then he had never cried again. He had sworn that he never would. Crying was a sign of weakness. A trait to be scorned. And those that wept were to be taken advantage of and destroyed. Real men don't cry.

But he did.

Until he could cry no more. And all was silent except the low howl of the winds still blowing around father and son. It was long before Sarek spoke again, and Spock- all cried out, was too tired to refuse.

"Stay here tonight. It is late. This old man will feel at ease knowing you are not on the road."

Sarek wrapped his arms around Spock's shoulders, and pulled him close- much as he had done when he was but a boy, and like a child, without thinking and on instinct of reflex, the son buried his head in his father's chest- seeking to hide from the overwhelming amount of truths now laid bare before them.

Father held son in the warm embrace of protection, and as he did once upon a time, a long, long time ago, told the boy the story of the archer light in the night sky. No witness to the two of them, except the starts twinkling above.


	6. Chapter 6

_A special thank you to a wonderful beta. _

_A warm hug to all the readers and reviewers. _

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 6 – Friends Now Foes**

The sunrise was beautiful that morning. And Sarek felt as if finally, _finally_ he had broken free of the chains that had bound his soul for thirty years. He naively wanted to believe it could be attributed to the positive strides made in the conversation with his youngest son the previous evening. But his scientific mind understood it was simply the manifestation of the weather patterns. The voice of his beloved rang out in his ears. _Time will heal all wounds. _It had become a mantra Amanda repeated over and over in their final days together. Despite his rational side speaking, his emotional self was fully ready to continue on the road of mending of the bridge severed between father and son.

And in order to continue that road, he would once again have to walk the familiar and painful steps of the past.

There were wrongs Sarek desperately needed to set right. Not just for his son, but the wife he had lost, and ultimately, for himself. He finished his coffee, rinsing the now-empty cup, and returning it to the cleaned sink. Unable to resist, the corners of the man's mouth turned up in an infrequent smile as he saw- truly saw for the first time in months, how Spock had cared for him when he was incapable of doing so on his own. Son had taken care of father, now it was father's turn to take care of son.

He would return the favor. He would be the father he should have been years before. He climbed the stairs and moved down the hall to the room across from his own. Spock's old room. Sarek stopped at the door and gently pushed it open to step inside. His son was still asleep in the queen-sized bed. Gazing upon his sleeping child Sarek remembered when he had first bought that bed. It was entirely too large for the little body that occupied it, and every morning he would have to hunt for Spock under the pile of pillows and blankets.

And now, nearing thirty, Spock was still Sarek's baby boy. He hoped they would get beyond the bitterness between them. He wanted to see his son grow to be a better husband and father.

Silently he turned and left, closing the door gently behind him. It would not do to wake Spock. He could tell his son was tired and he did not desire for him to be awake now. There was a place Sarek had to go. Alone.

He left his home shortly after dawn. This morning Sarek took the wheel instead of being chauffeured by a driver. The sprawling landscapes of the surrounding estates whirled past him as he drove- masking family secrets and hidden shames. The route was familiar, though it had not been traveled in many years. It was no different when he pulled up in front of the home of an old friend. One who seemed to have been waiting for his arrival.

Sarek walked up the stone entry way and keyed in a code he knew by heart- access granted. Strange, after all these years he still knew the numbers, and the fact that Nero had never changed them.

The massive mahogany doors opened upon his approach and he was met with a disarming smile and cold gaze.

"Welcome old friend." Nero said, spreading his arms and stepping aside, allowing Sarek entrance to his home.

He bit back a bitter laugh at the evil irony of it all. Yes, at one time they had been the best of friends. At present Nero made a mockery of the word by even using it in his presence. They were united by similar heritages, Sarek birthed and bred in traditional Sicilian ways and Nero trained in the god like ways of Greek men. Both were the sons of international business men who raised their boys to appreciate, indulge, and pillage the finer things in life- women included. They craved power. Control was the drug of choice for Nero and had been for Sarek. And while they indulged in their own brand of control and power- especially with women- that fascination had morphed into something far darker and dangerous for Nero.

They were seventeen when Sarek was forced to admit that something was wrong.

Mandana was fourteen the day Sarek and Nero met her outside the small café her parents owned. The girl's face was still round with youth, cheeks that blushed in a natural response to Nero's heated gaze. Plump, ruby red lips that formed that most beautiful smile, Sarek had seen. Her brown hair cascaded down her back and when she turned the softness in her hazel eyes was reserved only for Nero. That day Sarek had seen a touch of his friend's humanity. Nero doted on the girl, looking for all the world, like a man in love. He had left a rather large tip and returned the next day with flowers. They ate there for three meals a day for the next five days. Nero had looked- dare Sarek say it- happy then. And Mandana had taken the center of his universe. When the girl was off of work, Sarek would catch glimpses of the two of them walking along the town square- Nero's tall frame towering over the small girl, but not overwhelming her, holding her hand gently and caressing her face softly- tenderly- as if she were a precious treasure.

The following week the villain reigned when he took Mandana's most precious possession. Yes, the girl had offered unsure of what being with Nero entailed. Her tears had been too much for Sarek to handle. When Nero was done with her, he had left the girl alone in their room, storming out angrily and Sarek had been left to pick up the pieces. He had been the one to return her home to her parents, begrudgingly answering any and all questions they had. He had pled with the girl's father not to contact the authorities and instead summoned Nero's father to deal with the situation. The family was paid well in order to maintain their silence- but Nero always returned.

He had preyed on the immature love budding in the girl's heart, ultimately stealing Mandana from her parents when she reached sixteen.

Now that he was older, Sarek realized- it had been Nero's own twisted sense of love. And to him, that meant ultimate possession and ownership.

Somehow, Sarek had the misguided belief, that finally having Mandana as part of his life would soothe Nero. But instead, the man continued to spiral out of control.

It was not enough to have her. He had to break her.

Sarek watched as Nero paraded other women in their home- sometimes forcing his wife to watch. Sometimes, she would participate. And for Sarek's part- he said nothing. When Mandana would cry he found no words to comfort her- and instead turned a blind eye to her suffering. He stood silently by as the young woman who was now a wife developed vices of her own. She was unable to carry a child to term. Losing four children before doctor's had declared her barren. The life of wealth she lived now afforded the opportunity to taste and dabble with substances designed to create emotional numbness. She slid into her husband's darkness. His own vices engulfing her, drowning her- pulling her into a place she would only be free from in death.

And that is how she chose to free herself.

For the second time in his life, Sarek bore witness to his friend's humanity. Nero had grieved openly after Mandana's death, blaming himself for her suicide. Again, Sarek had no words of comfort for him- he was correct. Nero himself had killed Mandana. He had set out and accomplished his goal of breaking her. He had succeeded too well.

Soon, he found himself growing tired of his friend and the demons that latched on to his soul. He wanted to run- to break free from the man he was becoming with Nero's presence. He settled down with a beauty named Isabella during college. Young passion overtook them both and Sybok was born soon after the beginning of their relationship. It was his greatest achievement. The innocence of the tiny infant filled him anew and for the first time in his life he fully understood what it meant to have unconditional love. But that love did not extend to Isabella. Lust faded as they grew older. And though he loved Sybok dearly, those demons he'd fought to excise wound their way back into his soul. Isabella could not stomach Nero's influence on Sarek and one day, while he was out with one of his women, she took Sybok and left their home. While she needed him to remain in their child's life, any future dealings between them would be one of mutual respect in the pursuit of being parents to their child.

Losing Isabella had not created a gaping hole in Sarek's heart. They were not soul mates. His son was still part of his life. And he had moved on with ease, continuing his life of wealth and indulgence. He continued down his path of destruction, until Amanda. She had fought for his soul, and through her own sacrifice- she had won it. But the cost…

His eldest son inherited Isabella's ways. Sybok declined Nero's offerings at the age of fourteen and had actually spit in the man's face as the ultimate sign of disrespect. Sarek had been secretly pleased by his son's refusal, but now- the thought made new pride surge within Sarek. But he had paid for his sins with his youngest heir.

"Coffee?" Nero motioned towards the door leading to his study. "Or are you here to perform a disembowelment over the wrongs I've committed against your precious family?"

The words dripped with false sincerity from Nero's lips. But Sarek knew him too well to be lured in.

Yes- that was jealousy he noted in Nero's tone. In a strange way, God had been merciful, sparing Mandana the pain of bringing a child in this world with her husband. Ultimately it contributed to her death along with the realization of who and what her husband really was.

"We have much to discuss my former friend." Sarek spoke bluntly- his tone emotionless and cold as he watched the man's hands began to shake as he poured the coffee.

Time had not been kind to Nero- he could tell the man was ill and working to mask just how sick he was. He felt no pity.

"Cream…sugar…" Nero played hospitable host..

"I'll take it black."

The look on Nero's face alarmed Sarek. The man paused from preparing the hot liquid, closed his eyes, and took in the aroma of the drinks before him as a slow, half-crazed smile spread across his face. "So, that's where your son gets his penchant for African beauty."

Sarek's anger increased ten-fold. Nero was speaking again. "She really is quite lovely. I never had the pleasure. He didn't like to share her. I did taste her once, by way of Christine's lips." The man let out an indecipherable groan licking his lips. "Delicious."

Spock's story and the helplessness on his son's face was a memory that would forever be burned in his mind.

"You had no right Nero." He hissed, moving quickly. Before Nero could break from the spot where he stood Sarek was up, grasping the collar of the man's robe. Soul-less black eyes met his furiously burning brown ones. "He was _**my**_ son. I never wanted this for him!"

"The mighty Sarek, son of Skon, thinks he's above me?" Nero wrestled from Sarek's grasp pushing him back and pounded his chest. "I descended from the gods, **not **the _tomato vines_." He moved towards the cabinet housing something harder, stronger than the caffeine in the mug.

"You're a fractured deviant, who should have died years ago and left this world a worse place!" Sarek yelled.

"Well, kill me. If you feel justice will be served, by my death- do it." It was a challenge. Nero knew what he wanted, but Sarek wouldn't give him the pleasure. Still, he continued to taunt. "You won't though. I know this. You are weak Sarek. You always have been. Just. Like. Your. Son."

Sarek threw the mug on the desk, watching as the ceramic broke against the wall directly beside Nero. The hot liquid burned his face. And he watched with a twist of satisfaction as the other man clawed in pain. A piece of him was sated by the damage.

"My son will rise above the seeds you've planted in his life. _**My**_ son. Don't you wish you could say that?"

Nero gripped his burning flesh as Sarek walked out the door and his life.

But before leaving he turned, one more time.

"You are dying Nero. And I hope that death is every bit as painful as what you've brought to others. Some overcome their circumstance. Others use it as a crutch. Yours is killing you."

And for the last time, he walked out- shedding the demons of the past at the door.


	7. Chapter 7

_LadyFangs, thank you for your help on this. You saved this story when I was ready to just give up and call it a day. You're more than a beta. Co - conspirator, producer extraordinaire. Thank you. Thank you. THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

_Readers - A warning - This chapter will deal with a difficult topic that was originally introduced during Ch. 6 discussion between Nero and Sarek. It's intense. It's adult. It's serious. So, skip it, skim it, but you've been warned. The inclusion is necessary to reach the end. _

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 7 – Final Assignments**

The university campus was a buzz with Nero's condition. Spock found that he was now in the role of adjunct professor instead of his usual comfort zone of research and curriculum development. The students hid their conversations poorly.

_He's dying…_

_Weeks to live…_

_No family…_

_What will happen…?_

The whispers made Spock angry. Dropping his notes and removing the glasses on top of his head, Spock allowed his mind to reflect on the images of a young and viral man with a wide smile, arm thrown casually across the shoulders of his father Sarek as they stood on a European street. That was the man he thought he wanted to be, his role model. Another photo, Nero, young and lovingly smiling on the face of a woman who was hidden in the photograph Spock remembered from the cherished spot it held on Nero's desk in his campus office. At one time there had been another side to Nero, one that was brave enough to love.

Spock didn't know what prompted the late night drive to Nero's home. It unnerved him that he remembered the code to enter the gate. Even more disturbing was how it felt to retrieve the key from the lion perched outside of the front door.

It had been months since he'd been here, and mere days since the conversation with his father. He did not know what he should be expecting - but he expected nonetheless.

The house was dark, lit only by the softness of the moon illuminating the beautiful stain of the hardwood floors, creating beauty in spite of the evil laced in the very walls of the home. The stench of pending death cycled through the air as the spirit world fought for the fate of the soul of the single occupant of the house that was barely clinging to life.

"Nero."

Spock called out and received a series of strong coughs in response- the sound of phlegm and mucus mixing with a wheezing gag. The death rattle, that's what his grandmother had called it. Hesitation filled him. He followed the sound, to the bedroom located on the lower level of the mansion. The room was beautiful. Walls in delicate, matted shades of pink, a beautiful antique king sized brass bed. There the man sat, on the bed's edge, surrounded by boxes containing photos, some in color others in black and white. Hands that were once strong were now frail and feeble, and as Spock looked on Nero held one single photograph up for Spock's perusal. A beautiful woman with deep dark brown eyes that, even in an image, reflected the shadows of the young man's soul. His body went cold. The face he did not recognize, but those eyes…those eyes were familiar, so similar. He looked around the room. Pink was Nyota's favorite color.

"Come to finish what Sarek started?" The man's voice was empty, none of the usual fervor or fight.

"No." A simple and honest response is what Spock offered. He stepped further into the room, taking in the monster that once paralyzed him with fear. Now looking upon the skinny shadow in front of him, only sympathy rose as his eyes fell on the obviously ailing man.

"I must offer my sincere and deepest apology for the suffering I brought to your life." Nero took the photo from the young man's hand; allowing the tips of his fingers to grace the lines of his long dead wife's face.

"I sent her home that night." Nero pointed to the bathroom. "Because of those eyes…" Spock watched as Nero's lashes fell, shielding his tears from plain sight, "She pitied me. Even after the insanity my mentorship bred, her heart ached for me." The older man placed his hand directly above his heart, allowing it to linger, relishing in the faint beats felt under the skin. "Her eyes, they put me in a trance. Sending me back to days long gone when I first met my wife; I stole Mandana's innocence. I would have taken Nyota's, but Mandana's voice, it was so loud and clear. She loved you. I had no right…" The man's voice faltered until eventually only uncomfortable silence was left between the two men.

The ramblings had not made sense until Spock grasped that Nero was not reflecting on the love he lost years before, but the hand he had in ending the relationship Spock once shared with Nyota.

Nero was prey to a coughing spell that attacked him mercilessly. Spock watched helplessly, falling to his knees in front of the man. Unable to fight the compassion surfacing within him, Spock cleared the bed and helped Nero ease back in a position that would be more comfortable. Since entering the door, Spock noticed the welts on the side of Nero's face. He said nothing, but Nero read the question in his eyes.

"Evidence – Sarek's wrath." A disarming smile graced the man's face, but there was regret hinging in the corners of his eyes. "Death has a sadistic way of forcing one to atone for their sins."

"Do you need anything?" The sincerity in Spock's voice surprised Nero as well as himself.

The old man reached for his hand and Spock recoiled, physically as well as mentally. Noting the reaction, Nero smiled again, but this time, the smile was laced with sadness and silent apologies. He dropped the extended hand.

Spock immediately regretted the action- but in such a short amount of time he had learned too much…

Nero began speaking softly and it took the younger man a moment to realize Nero was addressing him. The voice was feeble- nothing like the deep penetrating tone he was accustomed to.

"Your father said something to me during his visit." Nero began, bringing both of his free hands up to steeple his chin, "There were many truths he stated the other morning, one in particular: _'My son will rise above the seeds you've planted in his life,' _You will rise Spock. Now sit. We do not have long. And there is much I have to tell you…

_Nero's lips tenderly connected with the dimple on the girl's right cheek. She was shaking. The night air was cold, but the shiver overtaking her was not of passion, but of fear. His hand smoothed her hair as he delivered words meant to produce calm, while his free arm snaked around her waist- pulling her tightly against his chest. His nose brushed over her hair, inhaling the scent of thyme and oregano, along with the dull and fading fragrance of roses on her soft skin. _

"_You can trust me. I will never hurt you." _

_The tension in Mandana's body lifted. She was so tiny. Nero knew he was capable of snapping her in half without much force. He watched as her small hands gripped the rail in front of her. They were staring at the lazy river flowing through the middle of the town. The moon and stars mirrored in the black water. Oh what a little moonlight can do… the song drifted over the air from one of the small bars adjacent to where they stood. _

_Sarek's warnings flooded his conscience again. He had said she was just a child, incapable of understanding what it meant to be possessed by a man. But Nero didn't intend to possess her- he wanted her to be willing. He wanted to teach her. This would be lesson number one of many more to come. He would teach her about pleasure unparalleled. He would show her that love was an action verb. _

_Nero swept the dark brown locks of Mandana's head to the side. Leaving the base of her neck uncovered, his lips descended, caressing the skin and nipping at the delicate area lightly. He'd done this so many times before- deflowering a virgin. But tonight would be different. Tonight would be the beginning of his future. A hope for happiness. He prayed that Mandana could become the family he so desperately needed. _

_Yes, Nero had a father; a man that could have easily passed for his older brother with the same rare good looks and deep eyes. Still he was a man that held wealth and harlots in higher esteem than his own family. _

_There was the mother. The one who had only become a shell of the woman she was before his birth. Mental illness ran in the lines of her blood. Her life had been spared by his father because of the heir she bore him. Nero. The one his father watched, waiting for a sign of his mother's weakness. A shared frailty that would produce an individual incapable of sustaining all the evils that life could bring. _

_His eyes shut, blocking out the memories waiting patiently at home for his return. The pain and hurt he'd learned to mask from an early age. The women his father loved and kept under his mother's nose. The smacks instead of kisses constantly delivered to her face. _

_He had been told it was what men do. And Nero was a man…_

_His next nip at Mandana's skin was more forceful, breaking skin, and causing a drop of blood to pool at the opening. She whimpered at the action and he licked the wound and turned the girl to face him speaking words he'd never heard his father say- yet knowing in his heart for them to be true of what he felt for the girl in front of him. _

"_I love you." _

_Her face filled with affection and his heart took flight. She believed him. Even he began to accept that he was capable of nurture instead of destruction… _

"_It hurts." _

_Mandana's soft voice filled the air. Nero was dripping sweat onto her petite frame. She was under him, inviting his spirit to become one with hers. With one hand, Nero guided his member towards her opening. Pausing for just a moment when Mandana's eyes shut to stave off the initial pain. He pressed further, ignoring her cries, and the scratches she placed on every piece of bare skin she could reach. _

_Why was she reacting so? Did she not love him? Did she not desire him? _

_Nero could hear Sarek, fighting to get beyond the locked door. Sarek's screams mingled with the gurgled tears of the young girl beneath him. But Nero continued - despite the pleas for him to stop - the flesh ripping apart to accommodate his length and girth - or the feelings of hopelessness filling him. With every thrust he grew angrier at her tears…this was not how it was supposed to be…she was meant to love him…accept him…he could not take her tears…they tore at him. The hurt and fear in her eyes wrapped around his soul- squeezing…No. She was his. He had made it so. If she did not love him now- she would learn to._

_Nero walked out the room, an hour later, naked, disheveled, and adorned in both his blood and Mandana's. He allowed the shower to drown out the wailing girl. The suite was empty when he finally exited the bathroom._

Spock barely heard the whispered last words of his former mentor as the old man faded into sleep. It was quiet. And he was left alone. He did not know what to say or what to think. He only knew to do. And so he did. Rising from his seat on the floor besides the bed, he reached down, gently pulling the blankets up to Nero's chest- watching it rise and fall slowly. He knew the man would be dead by morning. And he did not know how he felt about that truth, as well as the others revealed to him, either.

Nero was haunted by her. She followed him endlessly, whether asleep or awake he could not escape her- a reminder of what was to become of him.

Through the haze of semi-consciousness he saw her. She stood at the foot of his bed, those large dark eyes filled with something a kin to hatred and he felt his throat go tight. She was his soul- the physical manifestation of who and what he was…. Nero struggled to turn on the light. The illumination erased the vision before him, but he knew what he had done. Just as Sarek had spoken during his visit; death was proving to be especially painful. These last hours were occupied with past recollections.

_Mandana…_

As his death drew closer he realized that alcohol no longer kept her at bay. The TIME was creeping closer like a bride walking the aisle to join her groom. Mandana was the flower girl- tossing the dried shards of a life unfulfilled to the rotting ground beneath her feet. His latest vision found her crying tears of blood and murmuring about the children, all of which she had named- the ones who never lived in this world. They surrounded her like a small barricade, protecting her from any further damage he could possibly inflict upon her. All had dark, wide eyes like their mother- those eyes stared relentlessly at him. The children stood silent… the ghosts of the past a testament to his sins…

He had awakened screaming, tossing the lamp to the floor, and causing darkness to encircle him yet again. But she was back, caressing his cheek in the same manner he had done to her the night he'd taken her body the first time. She'd kissed him and it felt real. He felt complete, whole, and alive. Yet when the kiss ended, the face of a fourteen year old Mandana stared back at him. Her cherubic features tainted by pain and fear. In her eyes, a monster was reflected. She was scared and that created immediate arousal in the man. His stomach turned because of the disgust he felt at himself. Who was he? A man at war with himself…

_I would have given you anything. _

The spirit of Mandana whispered. Those were the last words she had spoken before raising the gun to her temple. Now that was the image before his eyes. The woman he had broken – physically, mentally, and spiritually. He had been too much of a coward that day to pick up the same weapon and end his misery. Instead he stood as his personal staff ran in circles, calling for help and covering the scene. He had sat in the blood, her blood, for hours. Long after her body had been removed from the home. Empty. Mourning the loss of the one person who loved him unconditionally…and he had taken that love- and choked it.

And then…then…after a night of horrors and truths he felt it begin. In his sleep he could feel himself leaving this place…

Now after so many years, merciful death, would finish what he could not. Nero fell back into the pillows, going softly to the darkness calling.

The man seized, falling backwards, as he violently began to shake. The noise startled Spock waking him from where he slept in the chair across the room.

EMS arrived in what seemed like a matter of minutes; Spock rode along in the back of the ambulance with Nero, clutching the man's hand the entire time. He had maintained a vigil through the long hours of the night- only to be awakened by this. His hand was white and lacking feeling by the time he raced alongside the gurney in the emergency room corridor. There he saw Dr. McCoy. The doctor's eyes locked with Spock's and then fell to the incoherent patient. The doctor lifted an eyebrow, shook his head, and immediately went to work.

"Just wait out here." McCoy said gently, removing Spock's hand from Nero's and pushing him away from the door of the room.

Spock held his phone tightly, contemplating on whether or not to dial his father's number or to inform Christine of Nero's condition. Instead he waited. His mind whirled with unfocused thoughts about the conversations of the past few days, Nyota's unspoken words, his father's heartfelt apology, and Nero's warning.

McCoy held true to his word and found him waiting quietly in the corner of the waiting room.

"Does he have family that should be called?"

Spock shook his head. "His parents died years ago. His wife committed suicide before I was born. He has no children."

McCoy nodded, "We've stabilized him. Made him as comfortable as possible, he's not going to make it through the night. His body is riddled with cancer, as far as we can tell, he was receiving no type of treatment for it. He's literally been eaten alive."

Spock kept his sights on the pattern of colorful splotches in the tiled floor. He would not become a man destroyed by bitterness and guilt. His fate would not mirror Nero's.

McCoy's voice interrupted his thoughts, "Do you have somewhere to be?"

"No…doctor." His response was terse and he regretted the tone.

McCoy ignored it, "Give me a few minutes. I need to finish some paperwork. We need to talk."

Thirty minutes later the two men were poised over steaming cups of coffee in the doctor's lounge. McCoy spoke first, "I know Nero was a part of what went wrong with Nyota. I know everything. I swear if you're planning something, _anything_ I will hurt you before you can even touch one hair on her head. You're a sick bastard."

McCoy's eyes were full of disgust as he looked on Spock's face. But as Spock met the doctor's glare, steady he remained - his voice calm and controlled without a trace of hostility. "I only want what is best for Nyota. That is not me. I do not know what she has shared with you-"

The doctor interrupted again, "Everything. And I could strangle you right now. But I took an oath to save lives. How dare you twist love and its meaning into something filthy?"

The words hit fresh wounds that had not yet closed and Spock fired back with venom.

"How dare you cherish a bottle more than your wife and child?" The words stung when they connected with McCoy's heart. He saw the man cringe.

"I owned up to my shortcomings. I never…"

"Allowed the blame to rest on another's shoulders," Spock's words caught McCoy off guard and the two fell silent before he continued. "You love her. I recognized that long before what we had ended. I trust you doctor, with Nyota's heart and happiness."

"Until I take my last breath…"

Spock envied Leonard McCoy. Yet he was thankful that a man filled with love greater than what he felt in his heart for that beautiful brown-eyed girl had walked into her life.

Spock stood from the table, gazed at the untouched cups of coffee and walked towards the door. "I will make arrangements for Nero's remains."

The doctor lifted both eyebrows in response to Spock's words; however both fell immediately when his phone buzzed with the notification that Nero's life had ended.

As he began the funerary process, Nero's last words echoed in his mind. The warning the older man had issued…

"_Christine is tainted goods, if you are to achieve some form of peace and happiness in your life, it will be necessary to end your relationship."_

"_If Christine is such damaged goods- why the attraction – why the prolonged association?" _

_Spock was growing tired of the man's riddles and attempts at sharing wisdom._

_The question made Nero laugh, "Misery loves company. You are not Sarek. You are not me. That woman will suck the life from your very veins." _

_The old man's eyes had been filled with seriousness. _

The conversation with Sarek had been necessary for father and son to begin to mend the tattered fibers of their relationship. Nero's words now were the assignments given to a man with only days, hours, minutes, and seconds left on this Earth.

"_Do not allow the guilt of your mistakes to rule the days of your future. Learn from each and every moment of the past." _Nero had pulled Spock closer, grasping both sides of the young man's face, _"Gain wisdom, move forward, and never walk backwards." _

As he sat making calls, and forming lists to dispose of Nero's estate, Spock knew there were still more issues he would have to resolve before he could even begin moving forward. The doctor's words on Nyota and Nero's words about Christine were at the forefront of his thoughts, and once again, in his own systematic way, he pushed the thoughts back, to concentrate on the task at hand.


	8. Chapter 8

_Thank you to a wonderful beta, who also wore the co - author hat for this chapter. Much love and appreciation LadyFangs_

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 8 – Follow Through**

There was something about Christine Chapel.

Despite what Spock knew to be best for him, the relationship with Christine had continued since the night Nyota walked out. She did not possess genius level intelligence. However she was smart in her own right. There was a sliver of compassion that could grow to the size of a mountain when faced with the challenge of someone helpless that needed her. Then there was the side that went to deadly in a matter of seconds, destroying any and everything that stood in the way of what she wanted. She was attractive, curves in the right places on her thin frame. Her golden hair was accentuated by beautiful ice blue eyes, and lips that could elicit untold pleasures as well as old world curses. Right now she looked like a scared little girl, dressed to play grown up. A black dress much longer than what she would normally wear, one foot curved over to the side, and her right hand jammed in her mouth as she bit her nails down to the quick.

The mortuary was filled to capacity with Nero's colleagues, former students, and a massive amount of enemies. Many were only there to see who would come, what would be said, and to attempt to unravel the mystery of the man lying in the black coffin before them. One particular attendant currently had Christine mesmerized. Spock stood next to her- watching Christine watch Nyota Uhura- who was standing casually beside Leonard McCoy. The man had one arm around her waist, keeping her cradled against his body, and it was an obvious attempt to protect her. There were faint bruises still visible on her face from the recent accident. She walked with a limp due to pain that she continued to endure. He saw Christine's eyes go from him to his former lover- looking for any signs of interest or deceit. Spock and McCoy's eyes met and derision towards him was still evident on the doctor's face. He found that he did not much care what McCoy thought- what mattered now was what he himself knew as truth. He pulled Christine away from the other couple with a respectful nod and was met with sympathetic eyes from Nyota.

Damn those eyes…

"You're with me now, Nyota is the past." Christine's words were bitter. Still as hard as she tried to sound tough and angry, the fear in her voice was apparent.

"Now is not the time Ms. Chapel." He walked away from her to thank the minister for the brief eulogy he delivered. This day had been a long time coming, he reflected. He could not do this anymore. This…arrangement with Christine. They had been brought together by the man in the casket. They had fed off one another like succubae. It was not an arrangement made in love or even in mutual regard. He did not like her. He would never love her. But she was his mirror- the living manifestation of the demons that haunted his soul. And he worked to tame them. Releasing and venting in her as she did the same to him. It was sex and lust and hate- all woven into a tangled web of deceit so that both refused to admit they had been using the other. They were poison apart- but death together. Somehow, Spock reflected as he continued to thank the attendees- this day was befitting. Because with Nero's death- the last chain that had bound his soul had broken away…He would not be that man that lay in death. And that meant that old things had to fade away…

Christine knew it was coming. These last weeks, she had seen the signs. But she had ignored them- brushed them off. Today however, she could do so no longer. She grieved for the end of the arrangement she had benefitted from in the last few months.

Watching Spock as he moved in and out of the crowd waiting to give condolences, she continued to stew. Relationships for her were rooted and grounded in the men in her life. She had built no significant attachments outside of that. Not even with the one family member residing in the same town. Jim was practically a stranger to her at this point. She had once held a belief that Nyota could become a friend, but that was quickly destroyed by the games she had played with the woman's heart. And the truth of the matter was- she had enjoyed every moment of it. Nyota was weak. And she, she was strong. Men like Spock and Nero- they needed strong women. Not ones who left themselves emotionally open. Yes, Nyota had set herself up for failure- and Christine could not be blamed for taking advantage of the situation- after all, Nero had taught her well.

Nero.

Sadness rose within her. At one time, what Christine felt for Nero went beyond lust. He had accepted her. He read her like an open book turned to the most intriguing piece of the chapter. Nero had encouraged Christine to gain strength from the past transgressions committed against her. Roger's betrayal offered an opportunity for Christine to control her future, instead of playing the role of naïve and loving companion. Nero had taught her to use her natural talents to control men. She could never have overpowered him and his pupil had proven difficult– but yet she had done it- or at least, she had believed it to be so at one point. She had taken Nero's lessons in control and gained strength. She was not at another's disposal, unless it was her choice.

Which brought her back to Nyota, the woman reminded Christine of what she used to be- what she could have been. Good. Nyota's relationship with Spock took Christine back to what she'd thought she'd had with Roger and what she'd so desperately wanted with Nero-love. Somewhere, deep down in the heart that had long since frozen over- Christine knew, she was jealous of Nyota and the love in her life. She had seen the way both men looked at the girl- one with love and the other with abject infatuation and adoration and she had hated her for it. And so, since she couldn't make it for herself…she'd steal it. She'd break the bitch. And she did. With her mentor and her lover-they had broken the other woman, allowing Christine to have them for herself…

Except…she hadn't. Nyota had survived. And it only made her angrier…

Casting her eyes back to where Nyota sat with McCoy, merrily chatting with one of the interim professors, blood began to pound in Christine's ears. How? Why was it possible that the woman crawled out of depression into the arms of a man willing to look beyond the sins of her past? McCoy was rubbing slow circles on the small of Nyota's back. Occassionally his hand would drift to her hair, smoothing it down, twirling a sing strand around his finger. Christine shut her eyes. Didn't she deserve the same? Christine turned her back to the scene, reveling in the bitterness growing deep within her soul.

Christine moved towards where Spock stood; only to have her path obstructed.

"Nyota." Christine acknowledged the presence of the woman before her.

"Christine." Nyota answered in an equally menacing tone.

The two women silently regarded one another, Christine's eyes darted around the room searching for McCoy.

Nyota answered Christine's unspoken question. "He stepped out to take a call."

It was a challenge. And Christine wasn't about to back down, her ice blue eyes meeting Nyota's warm brown ones.

"He's happy. We're happy. Go cry in your tea." Christine's voice dripped with contempt as she jerked her head in Spock's direction.

She expected the woman to back down, but Nyota's next words and actions unsettled her.

Instead of taking the bait, Nyota looked upon the blond with pity, her shoulders squared and head held high.

"You're far from content with where your life stands Christine. Spock is changing. It's all over him." Nyota shook her head and fixed her mouth in a thin line before speaking again. "He's growing away from you- and good old fashioned maturity will soon leave you in the cold." Nyota moved in closer, whispering the next line, "Have a little class and bow out gracefully- because I know Spock. And I know you do too. "Bow out gracefully while you still can."

McCoy re-entered the room and quickly headed in the direction of Nyota and Christine.

"Ladies, everything okay over here?" McCoy's southern charm seeped out of his pores.

Nyota snaked her arms around his waist, "Just fine." She said delivering a kiss to the man's chin.

The two walked off without speaking another word to Christine.

_Intuition…_

Every woman possessed it. Christine was no different. Nyota's assessments were correct and she had already noted significant changes in Spock. They had not been intimate long before he received the call that day. The one where he left Christine in mid sentence with a fork poised at her mouth. That very phone call had set in place a week- long absence where he did not respond to her phone calls, texts, or emails. Shortly after his return he had not so much as spoken a whole sentence to her- and had taken to sleeping in another room. Though he had not said anything either way, she knew she was no longer welcome in his home– if she ever had been. After all, he had not bought this house for himself or for her- but for Nyota. And when she was there- she was constantly reminded of that fact. Nyota had picked the furniture. Nyota had arranged the rooms. Even with other woman's personal effects gone…she was ever present…overseeing each and every move…

Part of Christine worried that with Nero's death, the blame for Spock's actions would rest on her shoulders. She made eye contact with him from across the room and he quickly broke her gaze. Coldness settled into her belly. The emptiness in her life, her heart and her soul, could no longer be ignored And for the first time in years, Christine Elizabeth Chapel felt afraid.

Just four years ago, Christine would have mimicked Nyota's actions. Floating on air, smiling sweetly, and laughing at everything the man beside her said.

But that side of Christine- the good and loving and nurturing side- that Christine had died. Roger Korby had killed her.

* * *

They were high school sweethearts- the perfect smiles and hair, the pair voted most likely to marry and have fifteen kids. That was them. After all, what do you know at seventeen? Not a thing. Perfect is an adjective clueless people use to describe a state of being that they don't know or fully understand.

Christine was not perfect. Her family was wealthy, but one could look at Nero and Sarek to see that often money was used to disguise the true nature of its owner. That held true in Christine's case as well. Her parents had been deemed the _perfect_ couple. They approved of her relationship with Roger, in the hopes that it would cease the whispers that often followed when Christine entered a room. Her, the daughter of one prestigious family, raped, by another upstanding family's son. To say she was not believed would be an understatement. She became known as _that_ girl.

And it followed her around for years. A stigma she couldn't escape- the scarlet letter emblazoned upon her for the world to see. Until Roger. A fresh face who knew nothing about the past and when he came into her world her life changed. For the first time she felt beautiful. She _was_ beautiful in his eyes. And nothing else even mattered.

In hindsight Christine saw that it would have been better to be forthcoming with Roger and his family. To share the past, the secrets, and the lies that many told about her. But she had been afraid. She didn't want to lose him. And in a cruel twist of fate- that's exactly what had happened.

Christine remembered the day with the clarity, the memory as sharp and fresh as if it had been yesterday. She had committed to memory the flash of heat swelling in her body and the stabbing sensations in her heart as he'd called her a whore and told her that he never wanted to see her again. She walked away, confused, baffled, by his actions. He'd spit on the ground, saying the very sight of her made him sick. He couldn't imagine touching her body with any form of pleasure. He would never allow a slut to bear his children.

That day he'd been cornered, misguided by the man who had taken her body. And Roger, the one who had promised to love her unconditionally for the rest of his life, looked at her like she was nothing more than a cheap hooker.

That day Christine grew up. She had learned that love was a word used to obtain a means to an end. A word that was empty deceitful and not to be believed, it was bullshit. She had resolved that day to stop feeling- because she had felt too much. And inside her, the hurt began to morph and solidify into something else – _darker_ – _dangerous_. Everyone believed she was a whore- but whore's had power. The only thing a man understood was sex. And sex was power. And Christine would wield that power better than anyone. And men were nothing more than vessels to be used and discarded. So were emotions. And since everyone believed the lies about her…why not make them truths? Roger had left her weeping on the floor the day he walked out of her life. And shebecame what everyone already believed her to be.

* * *

She watched as Spock sorted through the pile of mail; systematically discarding frivolous communications from information that was necessity. His long fingers worked meticulously. Her body craved him, she needed him, but weakness would reign if she showed him how much. He turned to face her, bracing the desk behind him and leaning back gradually. She moved, hands out, with the desire for just one touch. He shook his head no.

"It is best we go our separate ways Ms. Chapel."

Not once did his voice quiver during the delivery. The same man that Christine watched break down for over a month at the mere mention of Nyota's name, ended their relationship without any emotional response.

"You _need_ me." Christine swallowed the desperation fighting to escape to the surface.

"Christine." Finally emotion – compassion – sympathy - but no love -"It was an error to continue on this journey with you," Spock was wearing the same mask of pity Nyota had worn earlier.

"If you can't be with the one you love, then love the one you're with– _right?_" She couldn't keep the desperation from seeping into her voice nor could she contain the tears that began to fall, staining her face. The statement was more for herself than the man before her.

Spock's hand caressed her face. "Don't settle. I apologize for forcing you to live in the shadow of a woman you could never be. Forgive me. Forgive Nero. Forgive Roger. Most importantly Christine, learn to forgive yourself."

She recoiled from his touch, the anger and resentment she felt bursting forth like a burst damn and she jumped up from her seat across from him. Her fists curled at her sides.

"Easier said than done. Trust me, I know from personal experience." She spat with bitterness bathed in hate. She didn't know who it was directed to- either Spock or herself. But fuck him. She was out of there. For good. Christine snatched her bag from the couch, walked to the door, back still turned to Spock. She didn't know what it was in her that made her say the next words- but they came out uninhibited and fresh from the new wound Spock had bestowed upon her.

"You're weak Spock. You always have been. You always will be. No amount of repenting or "I'm sorry's" is gonna change a damn thing. You fucked up. You fucked me. You liked it. And even if she does leave McCoy- she won't take you back. Because when she sees you, she will see me. And you'll die- old and alone just like Nero. Full of "what-ifs" Fuck you Spock and your precious heart that only beats for Nyota."

She didn't turn to see his expression as she slammed the door hard behind her- hearing something glass shatter to the floor in her wake. She felt a surge of satisfaction. It had felt good to say those words. Good to know he would feel as she felt right now. The sound of the breaking glass felt even better…the destruction was almost orgasmic- soothing burning sensations of regret and sorrow fighting their way to the surface.

Until she realized that for the first time in months- she truly had no one- and nowhere to go.

The night air was chilly as she stepped into her car. She turned it on and immediately turned the stereo up as loud as it could go- she knew Spock hated that. And she hoped he could hear it.

She stepped on the gas and peeled out of the driveway, leaving tire treads on the pavement as she raced out the neighborhood the music blaring out of the speakers drowning her thoughts as the tears coursing down her face as she drove mindlessly down the highway.


	9. Chapter 9

Thank you LadyFangs for your Beta services!!!!!!!!!!!

This chapter was in the works prior to my hiatus, so I wanted to put it up. I'll be back next week or the week after - fingers crossed

* * *

**Chapter 9 – You Live**

_Nyota's hand was palm up, waiting, open, welcoming Spock to join her. He accepted. The first thing he noticed was the warmth of her hand, in spite of the heat it possessed, chills automatically shot down his spine. Her eyes were full of amusement and happiness. She took two steps and he took four, unwilling to wait another second to feel more than just her hand. Nyota tilted her head to the side, mischievous grin adorning her face, "Is this heaven?" He heard his voice falter with the question. She shook her head, curls bouncing playfully around her face. He wanted to kiss her, lay her down in the sand and possess her. It had been too long. She needed to know how he felt. How deep the love for her burned within. Nyota turned, still gripping his hand and took off running, he followed, trying to keep pace, but she was too fast. At first, Spock's face lit with laughter, he played Nyota's game. Holding her hand and running to wherever she chose to lead him. Her fingers slipped from his grasp. Panic set in, he needed to feel her hand in his. He had to keep her. He couldn't lose her again. They were still running. Her hair flowed. Her dress billowed in the ocean air. She was reaching for him, but now matter how hard he tried, he couldn't catch the hand extended and begging for his. Soon he was only staring at her back and then the outline of her form on the horizon. She was gone. He fell to his knees, caught in the tide, and allowed his body to be carried out into abyss…_

The pounding on the front door woke Spock from his nightmare. He was drenched in sweat. His heart was fighting to break free of his chest. Sleep had been fitful; his dreams were filled with her. Sometimes they would lose one another in a crowd of people. Other times, she would run, leaving him behind and then there were the nights when his subconscious forced him to watch her walk down the aisle to a destiny that did not include him. Tonight, the grief had finally taken him away.

Spock stumbled through the house, pulling on a shirt, and flicking lights where he remembered. When he opened the door, a pair of fists attacked. Two hands grabbed the collar of his shirt, tightening, and making it harder to breath. His back hit the frame of the door, repeatedly, and he swore he heard ribs crack. The first hit caught him off guard, the second threw him back into the home, hits three and four sent him spiraling to the floor, and his attacker jumped on top and continued his assault. Blow after blow, Spock's resistance broke down. He didn't feel the need to fight. The few times he was able to open his eyes Spock caught a glimpse of blue eyes hazed with anger and fury. He found pleasure in the beating, glad that someone finally had the nerve to put him out of his miserable existence. He drifted towards that same gulf from his dream with a smile and sense of peace…

When he regained consciousness there was a dull ache in the right side of his jaw. A pack of frozen peas had been strategically placed on the side of his face. He knew there would be unbearable pain in the morning, He tried to sit up and as soon as he moved a surge of what felt like liquid fire shot down his side. Spock lay back down, giving up. Sitting at this stage was not an option.

A voice called out to him from the other side of the room. "You didn't have any steaks in the fridge."

He recognized the speaker and despite his current condition laughed. "Duly noted James."

"Stop being so polite, I just assaulted you. Instead you sit there acting like I just brought you a fucking pound cake." Jim Kirk plopped down on the arm of the couch, offering a pack of frozen corn kernels and a box of Kleenex.

Spock accepted the tissue, "Pound cake sounds nice." They were the only words that came through, though hardly appropriate for the situation. He really didn't know what to say. Tense and difficult moments had always been hard for him- especially when he didn't hold the control.

"You are a cold hearted bastard. Not once have you asked why I busted in here and kicked your ass in the middle of the night." Jim stood, unable to sit still long enough to have the conversation. He was pacing now, stopping occasionally to stare at Spock, or shove his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

Spock removed the homemade ice pack, wincing just a little at the soreness and swelling already taking residence in his left eye. He didn't raise his voice or add any inflection. He simply delivered the facts, as he always did.

"The odds are on you defending your cousin's honor."

"The odds…"

Insanity returned to the man's eyes, as he once again stepped towards Spock.

"How about the fact that my cousin drove her car off a bridge earlier this evening? Or try this- she's been in surgery for the last two hours. Got one more for you "Mr. Unemotional", she has a forty- percent chance of making it. Does that register anywhere in you? This shit is on _your _shoulders."

Spock's ears were ringing; he wasn't sure if it was from the beating or the words that were just spoken. _Guilt._ He didn't believe it was possible to have any more of it added to his conscience. But there it was. So when he spoke his next words, they were sincere.

"Jim, I'm sorry."

"Damn right you're sorry. A sorry excuse for a human being, but then again, I don't believe you are human."

Spock worried that another violent outburst from Jim was on the horizon. And he was forced to listen silently as Christine's cousin began to rant on him.

"All this time and not as much as a phone call from Chrissie. Then tonight, one call, a jumbled series of words coming from her lips that all led back to your name. You don't want her. She can never be Nyota. Do you even think about how your actions affect others?"

He couldn't take the implications…

"Are you saying that Christine attempted to end her life because I severed my relationship with her?"

Spock appeared confused, hurt, and his mind raced back to Nero's story in reference to Mandana's death. The knowledge of the past had become too painful for Christine to handle and Spock's actions earlier in the evening had only sent her further over the edge.

"I hope you're being eaten alive with shame. You took advantage of both of those women. Christine and Nyota. You used them like they were pawns on a chess board, maneuvering their emotions, actions, and the details of their lives in the sick twisted game playing out in your head."

Just the same as the physical altercation, Spock had nothing to say in defense of his actions. Though the knowledge that he wasn't the only person involved was no matter- he was the bigger person. He should have known better.

Jim walked to the door, "My family needs me. Regardless of the time we spent apart, blood will always be thicker than water. Leave her alone Spock. Never talk to Chrissie again, or so help me God, I will end your pathetic excuse of a life."

Struggling to stand, Spock, managed to reach the door before Jim could exit, "I wanted Christine to have the opportunity to find what she needed. Yes I ended our relationship. Yes I told her she could never be Nyota, but it was not with malicious intent. I needed for her to understand that I had been unfair to her all along."

Jim closed the door and turned to face Spock. He said nothing, but signaled for him to continue speaking.

"I can share my account but I do not think you will identify with me, after all I'm a heartless alien." The edge of sarcasm eased, "Your mind is made up about me, based on one side of the story, as well as the actions you have been privy to in the past. I am the monster, cold – hearted bastard, and evil scum that you all have called me. I had a woman who loved me. I attempted to destroy her. You warned me once."

Jim expelled a sigh of frustration, "I'll say it again, just talk, all these words, prefacing your statements just speak your mind."

"You told me if I couldn't do the right thing to let her go." Spock paused. "My betrayal was my way of letting her go. I didn't have the strength to end my relationship with Nyota so I created a situation in which she would have no choice but to walk away."

Jim cut him off.

"I also told you to stop fucking with my cousin's emotions. I told you then that she was in love with you. Do you even know her story? The hell she went through before moving out here?"

Jim knocked Spock upside the head again, resisting the urge to punch the man dead in his face.

It stunned him, but he soldiered on.

"I wanted to believe she had taken control and channeled her emotions, but recently it became obvious she had not. I thought that by letting her go, releasing her, apologizing for what I had done, it would provide closure."

Kirk's retort came quick.

"Then it makes it even worse that you knew all of that. That you are that self- centered and absorbed that you don't realize how the experiences of others, becomes are part of their DNA. It dictates future actions and emotions." Jim pulled at the roots of his hair before settling into an Indian style position on the floor. "Chrissie played hard ass, but on the inside, she's still that girl who cried and locked her self away after the attack. You never really knew her."

Silence settled between them as Spock considered Jim's words. Yes he had used Christine. She had been aware of it the whole time, but in the end it still made him heartless. Everything had centered on his desires. Nyota had been forced to make a decision between maintaining her morals or holding on to him and their jaded life together. Christine could have walked away and out of Nyota's shadow into loneliness. He knew she wouldn't do that. Jim had said she loved him, but no it was desperation and inter – dependence.

Jim finally spoke again, "Spock, I also told you that you could set your own path. Your coldness and disregard for the people around you that care, irritates the hell out of me. You had what people spend a lifetime searching for. Material things are a dime a dozen, but you exploited the purity of unconditional love. Then you turned and abused someone too damaged to fully grasp the meaning of relationships, commitment, and trust. You became your worst nightmare- just like Nero."

Spock was fidgeting with the tie on his pajama bottoms and avoiding Jim's gaze. The truth hurt like a hot iron branding skin.

"You want me to take you to the hospital?" Jim paused and Spock detected the underlying compassion in his tone. The same man that had bloodied his face and torn down his character possessed true concern for him. "Or I can get Bones to look at you."

Spock brushed off his concern. "Superficial wounds, nothing like what I've inflicted on others."

"So what are you going to do, wallow in self pity for the rest of your life? Think about what could have been? I know you loved Nyota in your own twisted way. You've got to move on. She's happy. The relationship with doc is healthy. Focus on Spock." The punch Jim gave him in the shoulder that time was playful. "Okay last offer for an ER visit."

"No James, I am in not in need of emergency medical treatment." Spock ended the words with a half smile.

Jim looked at Spock, connecting with him on a deeper level, "I'm not one for church and religion but I remember something I learned once during an old fashioned bible camp my grandparents forced me to attend." He watched as Spock's eyebrow raised, "Stay with me."

"Carry on." Spock tried to hide his interest.

"Repentance is not just about saying I'm sorry. When we repent and turn it over – ya da ya da ya da ya – we change – complete one eighty. We may want to go back to what we know, because there is comfort in the routine, but when you see that your life can be so much more. You let that past go. You move on from the dirt in life. You find the treasure that's buried. You learn and you live Spock. You live."

With no further words, Jim left Spock alone to ponder his dreams, mistakes, and the past. It was time to repent and take another stab at this thing called life.


	10. Chapter 10

_The chapter was untitled until I went back to tweak. Eddie Kendrick's 'Intimate Friends' came on so there you have it. I believe it fits._

_Thanks to THE beta…not just any beta…LadyFangs for her valuable services. _

_Love and blessings to all the readers out there from little ole me. Happy New Year. Be safe tonight if you're going out. No drinking and driving. Please designate. I wanted to finish this story before the New Year, sorry, it will definitely end by next week. I hope you've enjoyed the journey. _

**Chapter 10 – Intimate Friends**

Nyota moved from position to position with grace. It was a beautiful sight to behold. Spock had given up half way through the routine. He found it impossible to concentrate on breathing techniques and form while keeping her in full view. Spock was in the back of the room, shielded from Nyota's eyes, behind stay at home moms and business women on early lunch breaks intent on maintaining the delicate curves of their body. Yesterday he was in the same spot, afraid to make a move once the class ended. Scared that her face would hold hatred and most of all pity for him; Spock wanted her love.

Occasionally, he would catch a frown, or lines ghosting across Nyota's forehead with each precise movement. Nyota was stubborn, and the last thing that would stop her from continuing her strenuous daily workout would be a little pain. No person would tell her she couldn't do something. So he could imagine that she'd performed the equivalent of verbal judo on her doctor when he recommended continuing to take it easy. Two days was too long for Nyota to be inactive. At ten days, she was ready to fall back into the standard pace of her life. After yoga, she would swim for an hour in the gym's heated pool, and if the dance studio was empty she'd jump and twirl to some ancient tune not near as entrancing as the woman who danced to the melody.

Nyota had told Spock once, in a rare moment of open love and honesty between them, that her feet were the end of her hopes of stardom in the world of ballet. She had quit before someone told her, no. It was the night after a major recital. She had struggled through practice, the pain in her body almost too much to bear. However when she had fallen gracefully to her knees behind the thunderous applause it made every scar on the balls of her feet worth it. The end had come on her terms. Nyota was a control freak. That's what made the girl fall in love with him. He made her feel out of control, off bearing, and along for the ride. Blindly she had followed him. Allowing only what was in her heart to guide the choices made. Refusing to be without him – unless what he offered was pain or inadequacy. Spock had forced her back on to the stage, the beautiful girl, the ballerina, with bad feet.

_Moment by moment_ was her answer when he asked how this thing they were starting would work, that day in the stairwell after their first kiss. She had believed it- and at the time it was enough for him.

Now those moments had finally ended. And it was he, not her, who had been left behind.

He followed her watching as she swam laps in the pool; her display of strength and determination causing a surge of pride within him. He waited in the crowd of people lining the halls of the gym for her to shower and change. He cleared the studio, asking politely for those who entered to leave the space, while she dressed so she could have the opportunity to lose herself in the choreography.

Today's music surprised him. Nyota danced with an invisible partner. He watched as her body molded itself with each new note. Bowing and smiling graciously as the secret man took her hands. Nyota placed her head on his shoulder and allowed her body to be pulled into his warmth. Spock felt an intense amount of jealousy towards the non – existent dancer. How fitting that he should recognize the song, _My Old Flame, _her mother's favorite Parker tune. One he had heard more than once from the buds in Nyota's ears. The doctor had hummed it as he reviewed Nero's chart that night in the hospital. Another sentiment the new man shared with the woman that was _his _Nyota. Spock had never been a fan, swore that it was a waste and could never compare to the likes of Dylan or Morrison. Stupid him. And even more to regret that he'd never opened his mind to her world.

He wanted to show her he was different - changed. A new man. Or rather, one who had been there all along hiding and fearful of rejection. Watching as his body filled the mirrors of the room, Spock stepped up behind Nyota, tapping her lightly on the shoulder. He paused and asked the imaginary man for this dance. The softness that filled her eyes, made tears rush to the corners of his own, and he allowed them to spill just this time for her. She took the hand he offered and they danced. For what felt like hours, but lasted only for three minutes and nine seconds she allowed the melody to repeat, another fraction of time, balm was applied to the wounds of his dying heart. He held her again. He cherished the feeling. Guiding her head to his shoulder and pulling her tightly against his chest. Sheltering her from the outside world, like a spoiled child hiding their favorite toy. Nyota would always hold the keys to his heart - the secrets of his soul.

Her arms wrapped around him. Her scent filled his nose. This is what he had pushed away. His mind raced. It would be easy to take her away. They could leave. He would make her forget, Leonard McCoy and his smiling baby girl. They could have children of their own; little ones who would have beautiful brown eyes and warm smiles – little girls that danced like their mother – boys who were not afraid to live up to a legacy of integrity and pride. He knew what he had done was wrong. If he had been brave enough to face his past – months or years before, she would still be his. Instead he was forced to fantasize about stealing her affections from another who was much more worthy of every ounce of love she freely gave. He would have to let her go, but today was not that day and this was not that moment.

The music stopped. Nyota was no longer in his arms. His face was still wet with tears. Jim's words came back to him. "I repent." It was a whisper that he only felt his lips form. He knew she had not heard him speak, "_Nyota_…I am sorry for all the sorrow and the pain I brought into your life. The heartache I caused. I don't know what I can do now, but I pray that you will please forgive me."

Nyota turned to face him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, "Spock, I forgave you years ago."

He hadn't realized how much he needed to hear those words. Shackles lifted from his arms and legs. The weight of oppression from his shoulders as the hole in his heart began to fill. He nodded his head; overcome and unable to articulate anything of substance at the moment.

He felt…free.

It took him a few seconds to soothe the range of emotions bubbling within him. His tears stopped, and an inner sense of calm settled over him. He was composed again as he accepted the hand Nyota offered, just as he had in his dream and followed her out of the studio and into the daylight.

They were a few blocks from her home. The silent stroll didn't bother him. This was the closest he had been to her since the hospital. There was no tension between them. It felt easy and refreshing. He took the bag from her shoulder and aided her up the stairs. Once they reached the door he took the key and opened the lock.

"I can have your car fixed or buy you a new one." Internally he kicked himself for the thoughtless offer. There was no way she would accept.

Nyota sucked her teeth. No words were necessary with that obvious display of attitude, still she spoke "We're doing just fine as a one car family."

Family. The hole in his heart widened. The sting of regret caused him to wince with pain. No, he could not destroy that.

Once inside he noted the differences in the home to the one they once shared. This one was cozy and quaint. Theirs had been almost sterile, like a doctor's office. Everything had its assigned place. Here the smell of vanilla and flour still hung in the air from the morning batch of pancakes that Nyota, McCoy, and Joanna had enjoyed. Spock tripped over a pair of skates and a hockey stick in the middle of the floor. The chaos was comforting.

"Sorry. Joanna's into ice sports now. Last month it was piano." Nyota hurried, moving the little girl's stuff out of the way. He walked, surveying the room as she busied herself clearing the away the mess. The bookshelves were adorned with pictures. He touched each one, recognizing genuine happiness in the framed faces. Joanna lifting two fingers forming bunny ears behind Nyota's head as they both giggled. A picture of Leonard McCoy holding Nyota in his arms, leaning in for a kiss as Nyota threw her head back in a fake attempt at avoidance. History and medical journals sat in perfect agreement on each shelf that symbolized how two souls were quickly becoming one.

McCoy was not physically present but Spock could feel and smell him. He looked at the woman's face before him, she could too. For a moment she would miss him and then her eyes would travel across the room to the coffee table, where his glasses were perched on top of the book he'd been reading before leaving for the day. The mug displaying No.1 Dad was on the counter. A little chuckle escaped Nyota's lips as her eyes shot down the hall towards their bedroom. He felt like he was out of place; a voyeur witnessing something intensely private and not meant for his eyes.

"Tea?"

It was a one word question that had almost escaped him as he focused on regrets. She had not waited on an answer. He heard as she gathered mugs and mulled over her extensive collection, determining which variety he would prefer. The familiar spice danced around his nose and Spock was reminded of quiet mornings that always turned into moments of intimacy.

The mug burned his fingertips. He buried the pain and walked slowly behind her to the table. Silence still hung in the air. Two mugs of tea later he finally opened his mouth and began to speak.

He would tell her all.

Spock started with Denise. The beautiful red headed lady with the unsettling laugh and the first time he'd lashed out at his older brother. The day that he learned hurting others to bury your own pain was a form of self- defense. He told her about his first experience under Nero's tutelage at the age of fourteen. Spock shared in great detail the things that had been done to his body that day by women who were old enough to know better and how despite the filth of their actions he had enjoyed it, climaxing every time someone touched him. She had shuddered in response to his words. She had turned and walked away, shaking her head and refusing to listen before returning to the table, with anger burning in her eyes. He cried during the portion of his story involving the little sister that never took her first breath.

Then there was the day Spock first laid eyes on Nyota. His recollection was perfect. He described every facet of her physical appearance that day - the jean skirt and t-shirt she had worn. The ankle bracelet that glowed against the unblemished skin of her smooth brown legs and how he wanted to write a letter of thanks to Converse because the red low top Chuck Taylors she wore that day were better than five inch FMPs. He spent many nights thinking about those legs and that pair of shoes.

"You're a dirty old man." The jovial tone in her voice made him relax.

He delved into the conversation with his father. The renewed relationship the two men had formed gave him hope for the future. He shed more tears and wiped her eyes as he discussed Nero. "He was so broken Nyota." It felt good to say her name again.

She asked him about Christine. A subject he had carefully avoided. And he answered honestly. "I hate what I did to her."

Nyota held his hand. Pushing him to continue and purge the guilt he held. She had known about Jim's attack.

"I wanted him to kill me that night. I needed to die."

"Why because you made mistakes Spock? You lived under a guise of what it meant to be a man. Yes, there were things you did that were wrong. People who were hurt during the error of your ways, so were you. It makes no sense to look at death as a reasonable out. It's not. The best thing we can do is pick ourselves up, brush off the dirt, and try again."

Nyota's sentiments were almost as comforting as being in her presence, "Jim said virtually the same words."

"He's a little wiser than anyone gives him credit for." Her eyes brightened and she dashed off, returning with an album in hand. "Pictures from Jim and Gaila's wedding…it was a beautiful ceremony."

She guided him through each photo – providing a back story to each shot, "Oh LaLa was so nervous, she threw up all over the hotel room while we were getting dressed."

Spock paused taking in the beauty of each image of Nyota. He burned with jealousy at the candid shots showing her dancing with McCoy. He was still looking at one of the photos, the one where she caught the bouquet, when Nyota spoke again.

"Why did you keep all of that from me? If you had said something – anything while we were together…" He heard the tinge of regret in her voice. Things would have been different. She would have accepted him and supported him as he changed. "When the thing with Christine began – your past it would have helped me understand."

"I was ashamed. Those experiences were all I knew of pleasure…happiness…_fulfillment_. Then I met you. I wanted the disgusting fantasy. I needed you. I was at odds with who and what I was. I thought that being with you would right all my wrongs and erase my sins. I hoped that I could be the man of your dreams. Do you know how desperate I was to be perfect, for you?"

"I never wanted perfect Spock. I just wanted you." Her words were without pretense.

"I hid you from Nero and my father under the belief that if I kept you to myself that you wouldn't be tainted. I watched as my blasphemous desires invaded your soul. I couldn't even hate you when Sybok shared every single detail of your escapades."

"He had no right." A part of him was happy that he had spurred her towards anger at his brother.

"Did you love him?" Spock needed to know the answer to that question.

"No. I was numb and operating under the notion that I could remain detached emotionally. In the end being with Sy always reminded me of you. It hurt…it felt like betrayal. He knew that. He forced me to face that. The two of you should really talk. You have a lot more in common than you think. He only wanted to protect you. Sybok loves you Spock."

Nyota cleared the table and the words escaped his lips before he could stop them. "Do you still love me?" He watched as she froze and took a breath before answering.

"Spock please don't ask me that." It was a plea. She was protecting him.

"Nyota do you still love me?" Spock was up removing the cups from her trembling hands, placing them back on the table.

"You will always hold a piece of my heart." Her hand cupped his face, "I love you. I always will. But I am in love with Leo. And we can't go back. I'm sorry."

Spock shook his head. "Do not apologize for what you know to be real. I am thankful that you found what I could not provide."

Nyota cut the tension in the air with the next words, "So tomorrow I think you should actually come up front with me and pay attention to the instructor. Then maybe you can come by the museum and help me review a few of the growing piles of ancient texts on my desk. I really need to get back to work."

His eyebrow lifted slowly.

Nyota smiled in response to the familiar gesture, "Yes, I would like for you to hang out with me."

Spock had reclaimed a precious friend.


	11. Chapter 11

_Thank you Ms. Fangs as always for making sense of my insanity. _

_The first ten chapters really included a ton of self introspection. This one has a decent amount but in the last four chapters you will begin to see more character interaction. Plus there will be signs of me. I have to inject humor. After a while - way too much angst gets me down. This is a redemption fic in more ways them one. Spock is not the only one who has wrongs to right. Enjoy the next installment. I always appreciate feedback - positive or negative. Do not hesitate to share your thoughts. _

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 11 – The Berlin Wall**

Nyota watched as tranquility settled into Leo's face as he slept. They had spent the previous two hours arguing with hushed and muted screams. Neither one of them had allowed their voices to rise above an exasperated whisper for fear that Joanna would hear them. It ended with Leo delivering a soft forehead kiss filled with love and frustration. He told Nyota he loved her before he headed to the shower, returned to the bedroom, and succumbed to a fitful sleep that eventually led him to the calm he now experienced. She couldn't blame him for his anger, which was only rooted in fear. In recent weeks Nyota's renewed friendship with Spock had blossomed. The man had proved a valuable resource at the museum. He supplied pointers for her upcoming stint with the State Department. More than once, Leo had returned from a late shift at the hospital to find Spock in their home, comfortable and cozy with the woman he loved as well as his child.

Rarely did the couple spend time together without the presence of Spock looming in the air. If he was not actually in attendance, then the man was the topic of discussion. Joanna told him stories about their time together after school, how he told the funniest jokes, and made the craziest faces.

When Leo and Nyota made love he wondered if it was him or a memory of her ex lover that caused her to climax. He felt like he was losing grasp on his sanity. At one point his relationship with her had been damn near perfect. Yes they argued. She was so organized, almost to the point of OCD. He still polished off the milk and put the empty container back in the refrigerator. Normal couple stuff - but now they had tension that had been building up for weeks, threatening to unleash a torrential downpour on their parade.

Nyota thought about everything he shared and the words expelled in the air unable to be retrieved.

"Keep your voice down Leonard." Nyota rushed to their bedroom door, closing it to prevent the sounds from their disagreement spilling into the hallway.

"You're not my mother. Are you even still committed to this relationship?" He was angry but his voice held an edge of pain. Like a child who sought reassurance from a parent. His brows were raised while the whites of his eyes took over half of his face.

The words stabbed into her heart like a jagged edged knife. She didn't want him to think that anything had changed between them. "Don't be a dumbass." Nyota turned to walk away from Leonard and the escalating confrontation. His hand gripped her arm. It was forceful. "Let me go." She delivered her words slowly through clenched teeth. Her message was loud and clear.

Leonard released her arm and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. His head rolled forward into his hands as his shoulders slumped. "I'm a stranger in my home Nyota. He comes in here as if he owns the place - like _he_ fucks you to sleep at night."

"Don't be a vulgar asshole Leonard McCoy."

"Stop with your self righteous bullshit Nyota. Do you want him back? Has this just been a meaningless diversion until he worked out his daddy issues? Don't play with me and definitely don't jerk Joanna around like a doll you can throw away when you're done with show and tell."

Nyota slapped him hard. With much more force than she originally intended. He stared at her for what drudged on like hours. Leo's hand rested against the reddened skin of his cheek. The laugh that followed disturbed Nyota. He moved towards the dresser. One drawer jerked out and clothes spilled to the floor. He gathered a few pairs of sweats, a set of scrubs, socks, and boxers. He headed for the closet and his duffle. She watched. Unable to reconcile that love was dying right before her eyes.

The wall collapsed. The imaginary structure that had been erected some time between her first and second years with Spock. Inadvertently she had created an emotional door for Leo to move in and out after their first night together. However she reserved the right to lock more like deadbolt and restrict his access on a given occasion. Now it was necessary – No, _imperative_ that it be destroyed. And as she watched him begin to load his clothes the dam burst and that wall collapsed as if it were 1989 and they were in Berlin. Her tears could not be contained. She sobbed. She wailed. She had to run to him, pleading, the wetness of her eyes staining her shirt and his, as he dropped the bag and wrapped her in his arms.

Without discussion he fell into the role of comforter. When he had every reason to be disgusted with her and their situation he swallowed those feelings and gave her what she needed. In the end what was required for their love to be sustained. That was the difference. It was a simple characteristic that distinguished him from Spock and birthed the love that blossomed in her heart for Leo.

She finally responded to his accusations in a whisper, "That's not fair Leo. I love Joanna." Nyota considered Joanna her daughter but by the look on his face those weren't the words he expected.

Nyota placed her hand in the center of her chest. "This heart only beats for you McCoy." His eyes closed under the weight of her words. "I am sorry. I forgot how it felt to watch the person you love, give their best to someone else. I wanted to be his friend. I felt compelled to support him through this journey. However my responsibility is to you – to us." She stepped closer and reached for his hand, resting it atop the one still settled on her heart. "You are the only man I want."

And like that the greatest obstacle in their relationship was obliterated. They had professed their love for one another in the past. She had reassured him that no he was not a rebound yet she had reserved a tiny amount of doubt in the event of an 'I told you so' moment. The spirit of Spock and the air of betrayal had been banished from what was between Nyota and Leo.

Nyota inched closer to Leo under the covers. His body responded to her in sleep as he lazily draped one arm across her and yanked her closer to his warmth. She didn't sleep that night. Nyota just watched Leo until it was time to wake Joanna and begin a new day.

* * *

Leonard's heart pounded in his chest. He stood outside of Spock's door and waited for the man to respond to the bell. After last night it was necessary to have an important discussion with Spock. A look of shock settled on the taller man's face when the door revealed the doctor on the other side.

"May I come in?" Leonard asked as non – threateningly as possible.

Spock stepped to the side and motioned for Leonard to enter. He spoke only after the door was closed. "Doctor McCoy this is a surprise."

The polite pretenses quickly disappeared. "I told you the night that Nero died that I would kill you if the thought of harming Nyota crossed your mind." Leonard's eyes were ablaze with something that vaguely resembled hatred.

"It is not my intention…" Spock was confused by this twist in the doctor's behavior. For the last few weeks he had enjoyed time in the home he shared with Nyota. There was even a semi friendship growing between Spock and youngest McCoy.

"I don't give a damn about your intentions. The road to hell is paved with good intentions. The fact of the matter is, your continued presence is disturbing the sanctity of my relationship with Nyota. It stops now. Whatever little mind tricks your employing."

"Doctor…"

"Did I say you could speak? Nyota is with me. Joanna is my daughter. That apartment is my home. The one I share with them. You are not welcome unless _I_ say you are. Finish your projects with her at the museum and stay away. I mean that. This is my final warning."

"Nyota is capable of speaking for her self. Are you scared doctor? Does it disturb you that she does want me?" Spock's skin prickled with the false sense of power that came from manipulation. It would be so easy to slip back into his villainous ways - to drive a wedge between Nyota and the doctor.

"You know what you self centered asshole? It does bother me." Leonard's voice was riddled with passion and anger. "That's the difference between me and you - I can admit when I'm scared. I can look at that woman and tell her that the possibility of losing her makes me want to crap my pants. I love her. I want to spend the rest of my life, making her smile. However, Nyota is a saint and still cares about you for lack of better judgment. Just stop, can't you see what this is doing? What do you think we're going to have some type of three way relationship? I'm stingy I don't share."

Spock's demeanor changed again, a sudden flare of sadness welling behind his dark eyes.

"I miss her. I feel incomplete." Spock retreated from the doctor's glare and allowed his eyes to fall to the floor.

McCoy felt pity for the man. He knew Spock's story – a hell of a life to have to live and he really wouldn't wish such a thing on any being. Sure, everyone had choices, but sometimes, those choices were made for you – he could identify on some level, even if very, very small. So, with his brain saying one thing, but his cursed sentimental soul saying another, he decided to extend an olive branch.

Leonard inhaled slowly and let the breath out to calm himself before he spoke his next words, uttered with sincerity.

"Spock, completion is not found in another person. We have to reach that point before we bring someone else into the equation. So now you have clarity about why you made many of the decisions you did along this journey called life. You made those choices when Nyota was and was not part of your life. The controlling variable is you – not her." Just like Jim, compassion slipped into the man's voice. An underlying sense of understanding was present.

"Why is the same not true for you?" It was a valid question. Obviously the doctor thought so, he answered without skipping a beat.

"It is Spock. I make the choice day in and day out as to whether or not I will get drunk off my ass. That decision is often influenced by the presence of my child and that beautiful brown eyed woman. Still it's my battle. Neither of them holds the power. You have that authority."

The two men stood in silence - finally broken by Spock.

"I will honor your wishes." He said seemingly defeated. But there was no tension. Just the calm stillness that existed between two individuals who had reached an unspoken understanding and this time, it was McCoy to break it.

"Have you ever been to a football game?" The question was bizarre and Leonard could already imagine the response of his friends but it was worth a try.

"Are you speaking of rugby or soccer McCoy?" Spock's furrowed in confusion.

"I'm talking, good, old –fashioned, knock down, violent, American football." The doctor's eyes twinkled with amusement.

"Well, no I have never experienced a football game." Spock clasped his hands behind his back and rocked back and forth on the tips of his toes.

"Be at the apartment on Saturday around eleven thirty." Leonard was smiling widely now. "On time dumb ass and wear something that looks reasonably normal. Do you even own jeans?"

Without waiting for a reply and ignoring Spock's wide – eyed expression Leonard rushed out the door violently punching numbers into his cell. He yelled eleven thirty over his right shoulder in Spock's direction again. If he would have looked back he would have seen the beginning of a small smile on the man's face.


	12. Chapter 12

**_My Beta rocks!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Thanks for all your help LadyFangs. _**

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 12 – Sandbox**

It was 8 am on Saturday morning and as he prepared his morning cup of tea, Spock could not help but feel more than just nervousness. He did not shaken or startle easily- and this newfound anxiety was…unsettling. As he poured his tea and walked the expanse of his home, he found himself outside on the balcony- watching the mist settle among the trees. It was quiet now, as the rest of the world was just beginning to awaken from slumber. As he looked out, a long repressed memory began to surface in the back of his mind.

The emotions he was now feeling, he'd only felt once-before on his first day of school.

***

He was just shy of his sixth birthday and his parents were urged to enroll him in a local parochial school. Neither Sarek nor Amanda had raised their son with any religious sensitivity. The suggestion was nicely planted by the child's grandmother. His parents knew that it was not an ingenuous proposition but a mandate. Until that day Spock had received his tutelage at the hands of Sarek. He had listened intently as the man shared tales of his travels around the world. Sarek had taught his son the language of the old world. The time spent at the feet of his father was tucked away in the depths of his heart. They were a few of his favorite memories.

Amanda was unyielding in the grasp of her son's hand as they approached the stairs that led to the ornate and massive doors of the school.

"_I'm frightened."_ The timid voice of five year old Spock relayed.

"_That's a good thing honey." Amanda knelt to meet her son's eyes. "This is a new adventure; there should be a level of apprehension. They will love you just as I do, my darling boy." _Amanda tweaked his nose before she closed her arms around his fragile body.

Renewed by his mother's love and sustained by her confidence, young Spock entered the classroom. He ignored the leers and jeers of his new classmates. He pretended not to hear their taunts at recess. Spock was unfamiliar with the word _whore_ but he did not find it phonetically pleasing when expelled from another child's mouth. The word encompassed elements of hatred and did nothing to emphasize the love he had for his mother. It was necessary that he defend her honor. That he preserve the righteousness of his family's name. He only meant to push the boy. The child's body flew in the air before it plummeted to the ground. Spock watched as blood pooled from the boy's head after he landed face first into the seesaw. He was surrounded by his victim's supporters. Their fists pounded his body and he fought back. Spock clawed and kicked. He even bit two or three of his attackers. His father retrieved him from the school immediately. And he listened with a lowered head and tears in his eyes as his parents argued for the remainder of the day.

That was the first and last time he ventured to make a friend.

***

_Until today…_

Spock had not given McCoy and affirmative answer. He also had not declined the invitation to the football game. Still it would be untrue if he failed to admit that he possessed a small degree of excitement. For all the elation, there was a sense of despondency lodged deeply in the pit of his soul. McCoy would be in attendance, so would Jim, and there was a strong possibility that Hikaru and Pavel would be included. Nyota's oldest and dearest friend, Hikaru Sulu, caused the hair on the back of Spock's neck to stand. There was no love lost between the two. They had successfully steered clear of one another at the museum, however today they would be forced – to deal.

It felt like he was headed into the Lion's den. And being eaten alive was not high on his priority list.

Spock shifted his cuffed shirts to the side and liberated an exaggerated sigh as he struggled to find a shirt that would coordinate with the jeans on his body.

The doctor's directions for proper attire flitted across his mind as he looked through the clothes in his wardrobe_. Reasonably normal_, the man had said. But what did Doctor McCoy mean by reasonable or normal? His clothes were tailored to fit his body except for what he purchased off the rack at high end boutiques frequented by trendsetters. On occasion he visited thrift stores that the elite disposed of last season's forgotten goods. He twisted his hands through the strands of his immaculately styled hair. That alone would require an additional three quarters of an hour to prepare for his day with the guys.

Spock's stomach did an assault of moves reminiscent of a gymnast's floor exercise routine. He collapsed on his mattress and contemplated a cancellation of today's plans. But the vibration of his phone pried him from that train of thought.

Before Spock could say hello Nyota's voice could be heard on the other end of the line. Relief washed over him and a slow smile began to spread over his face.

"What are you going to wear?"

At the sound of her voice, Spock was that five-year-old little boy again.

"Hello-o-o-o-o-o-o-o." Nyota distended the final syllable for added affect. "Do you have on that pair of rigid jeans you swear are the best thing you ever bought? Because they're awful"

Spock glanced down and the dark, unyielding material. "How…?" Maybe she could see through the phone.

"Don't worry about how, just take them off."

He imagined her face twisted in a frown with disgust over his choice of clothing as he obeyed her instructions. He was now standing in his t-shirt and boxers, awaiting her next set of instructions. He put the phone on speaker. And soon her voice filled the room.

"In the back of your closet there should be a pair of jeans – kind of light blue rinse – relaxed fit."

He didn't know the meaning of any of those words. But he did as she said. As Spock rifled through the hangers a pang of sudden regret hit- Nyota still knew him so well. He had changed nothing since their breakup. Yes he had removed the obvious signs that they once resided in this space together, but her half of the closet was still bare. His hand clutched the jeans she had described. It was his turn to screw his face into a look of revulsion.

The ambient voice floated through to him from the phone.

"Just put them on and shut up."

"Your verbal abuse does not amuse me Nyota." Spock deadpanned but he was sure she could identify the smile in his voice as he put the pants on.

"Okay, third shelf to the right of your shoes, there will be a pile of t-shirts, some with long sleeves others with short."

He nodded his head as if she was there to watch him on the scavenger hunt.

"Grab a black short sleeved tee and a long sleeved white one. Layer them – you know how to do that."

"Are you now going to tell me the proper shoes to wear as well, Nyota?"

"That's next. Don't rush me."

"Yes mother." Those words – for a moment it was like the first day of school. He gathered his strength from what Nyota transferred throughout their conversation. She laughed in reaction to his snappy comeback.

"Finish it off with the low top Chuck Taylors."

Nyota stayed on the line while he dressed.

And when he did he looked into the mirror. Surprisingly, he did look like one of the guys.

And the, came her voice once again from the phone.

"Don't be nervous. Leo's on your side and so is Jim. Pav's neutral – Ru is excessively acrimonious when it comes to you."

Picking it up from its perch on the shelf he switched it back to manual as he began to walk out the room.

"Hikaru cherishes the closeness the two of you share. He was a companion to you when I was not. He is extremely protective and does not wish to see you harmed. I cannot fault him for that. I just want the opportunity--"

She cut him off, just as he began to ramble.

"Just be yourself Spock. Move on from the past. It's time for you to build a positive support system. This is what you need. Be transparent – none of that entitled malarkey you like to pull."

A soft smile rested on his face, "Yes mother."

Silence hung on the line between the former lovers until she said, "Amanda would be proud of you."

Nyota disconnected the call before a single tear escaped from the corner of his eye. After all this time…She still knew how to reach him.


	13. Chapter 13

_Thank you to the awesome and wonderful LadyFangs for her beta assistance. Also a big hug to the ladies of WA. You make a girl want to get better at this little hobby. When I grow up I want to write just like you. One more chapter people and the trilogy is wrapped. _

* * *

_**Chapter 13 - Where I Belong**_

The starting lineup sat quietly around McCoy's dining room table. It was just before eleven. The game started at three. Gaila shook her head as she deposited a bowl of fruit salad in front of her husband. Nyota sucked her teeth as she slid a platter of bacon into the remaining free spot at the table's center. Joanna even joined the rebuke with a muttered "_grow up". _The men waited in silence until they heard the three sets of feet retreat down the hall to one of the back bedrooms. McCoy's fork had only pierced his eggs before the war of words began.

It started with Sulu. Just as McCoy knew it would.

"What happened to the McCoy who would cold cock that ass and ask questions later? Did she _make _you invite him? I can't _believe_ you used our extra ticket on him. Do you _know_ how much money we could have made?" Sulu reached for the waffles only to have them snatched from his grasp by the doctor. He snorted and threw in a retort as he withdrew his hand. "Oh but you'll leave your **true** friends starving and alone."

McCoy threw him a warning look.

"First and foremost I don't have to take _your_ shit at **my** table in **my** home while _your_ greedy ass is eating **my **food. I am perfectly capable of making **my** own decisions--"

McCoy paused and cast a glance down the hall before lowering his voice to a whisper, "No _woman _tells me what to do."

That last statement was met by series of chuckles and cleared throats and raised eyebrows as the men waited for a screech to come from the other end of the hall. Nyota's hearing was world renowned and surely she had just picked up the declaration made by a whispering McCoy.

Nothing.

Satisfied, the doctor continued, "This is _not _the Enlightening Period of 2010. I went with a gut feeling. You didn't see that man's eyes Sulu. You haven't watched him over the past few months. He's trying hard to reconcile who has become with what he used to be. He's had more than enough opportunity to take advantage of his friendship with Nyota. But he hasn't. And he's remained respectful of me and our family."

He shoved a forkful of lukewarm eggs in his mouth before speaking again- mouth full.

"Hell, at one time or another we all needed someone to extend a hand and help us out of the mess we'd gotten ourselves into. Spock ain't that different in that regard."

Nods of acquiescence came from all but one.

"I don't trust him."

Sulu's jaw twitched and his arms folded across his chest as he leaned back in the chair.

"Maybe _you _think he's changed. But his history tells another story. I can't forgive what he did to Nyota. **My **trust is earned- and he hasn't done shit to earn any of it."

"_Enough_ Karu!" Pavel's voice broke through the tension. He shook his head in disgust. "Do you have such little forgiveness in your heart? Would you be so quick to talk about me with such hatred? We wouldn't even be together if it wasn't for Nyota interceding on your behalf."

Sulu took a deep breath and then released everything that was heavy on his heart.

"Nyota cried on my shoulder long before you were in the picture doc. _I_ was the one picking up broken pieces - wiping tears when he used her and threw her to the side like some rag doll. So _forgive_ me for being loyal to my friends."

The last words were a bitter reflection on what he'd suffered through too during the days of Spock and Nyota.

"Ru, I'm not asking you to be his best friend." Obviously Nyota had heard the latest exchange. No one had even heard her re-enter the room as she walked up to Sulu, standing beside him and placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. The men turned to face her as she spoke to him.

"Thank you for being there and loving me when I was too stupid to know my own worth. I appreciate each night you held me and let me cry. I'm thankful for every single moment that you refused to turn your back on me."

She paused brushing away the tears that had begun to fall with the back of her hand.

"You're the reason I was able to recognize what I found with Leo. You helped me learn by allowing me to watch you and Pavel and how your friendship blossomed into real love. I wouldn't have a model to follow without you or the old married folks." Nyota pointed where Gaila now sat with Jim. "Do you see that? Spock never had that luxury. He didn't have an example or a template to follow. And he was too young to know that the figure he did have wasn't the right one."

Sulu relaxed a bit and looked up at her.

"For you. I'm only doing this for you." Hikaru smiled at Nyota as all tension fled the room and the ice broke.

"Now can I please get some damn food?!" He held his empty plate in the doctor's direction.

The somber mood lifted and the apartment filled with the sound of laughter. One person talked over the other to stress their point in stories that were partial truth and drenched in embellishment as the noise level grew louder and louder. No one heard the doorbell. They were all too busy making bets and predictions on the game. Jim and Nyota prided themselves as being the only diehard Saints' fans in the building while everyone else was sure the team would fold to the lowly Cardinals.

Joanna's loud screech of Spock's name interrupted the playful argument. "Spock!"

The room turned and watched as the little girl flew into open, welcoming arms. Spock bent down to catch her and pick her up, tucking her close to his chest. They babbled together, exchanging a morning greeting and catching up on events that had been missed since seeing one another last. She messed up his perfect hair and he laughed– a sound that at least four new sets of ears had yet to hear. Joanna jumped from his arms and grabbed his hand- pulling him to the table.

He was greeted by two lovely female smiles (Nyota and Gaila) a few seats scooting to make room (Pavel, Jim and McCoy) and a long, lingering look from one (Sulu). It got quiet and he hedged slightly.

"Good morning everyone, I rang the bell and knocked but there was no answer. The door was unlocked so I came in." His apprehension was visible. The usual hard-eye contact was gone and replaced with a slightly lowered visage. The broad shoulders usually thrown back in arrogance were tense with nervousness. He swayed a bit back and forth clutching Joanna's hand.

. Before he could bolt, McCoy stood and gestured for him to sit down

"Have seat. Want some grub?"

And like that all remnants of the previous unease vanished. He had one foot in the door.

Later on Spock helped as they packed Jim's jeep with more food, a cooler full of ice and, as they men explained to Joanna, "adult beverages".

They were all now out by the car.

"So, if I understand correctly, we just ate breakfast, now we pack more food, and we'll eat again at the game?" Spock stood by backseat door, a look of confusion on his face, his brow furrowed.

"You don't question the day – you enjoy the game – you enjoy your friends." Jim slapped him on the back and went back to arranging to their cargo and tying it down.

Thirty minutes later Spock was speechless as they made their way into the stadium. People bustling to and fro, dressed in the same attire he was in- or worse. They used slang in their speech- something he inwardly flinched at. And more questions arose. He watched everyday people separate from the elite. This was a new experience for him and he was not 100-percent comfortable. He felt out of place.

He followed the guys to their seats in the end zone as his head continued to crane towards the luxury boxes with wistful longing.

McCoy caught him, "You can't watch a football game in leather seats in a heated room."

They moved in a tight aisle, accidentally stepping on other toes and brushing up against knees folding in trying to accommodate them. Finally, after what felt like forever to Spock, they found their seats.

He began watching, keen eyes intent on the game before hand and before he knew it, he was sucked in.

The crowd roared and Spock stood. His voice rising and exiting his mouth as the urge to cheer for the men in gold and black overtook him. He was wedged between Sulu and McCoy. The two took terms explaining defense and offense as well as the meaning of 1st and 10. He learned why the men in the black and white striped shirts kept throwing those gold flags on the ground. And he accepted the tortilla chips covered in cheese and jalapeno peppers.

"Nachos. Don't **ever **let me hear you say tortilla chips again. It sounds gay." Hikaru corrected Spock.

Spock's confusion was evident."Hikaru, you _are_ gay."

"Joke! I was making a joke!" Hikaru said shaking his head and laughing.

_So this is what it felt like to belong_, Spock's inner voice mused as the team in the black and gold scored again and the stadium erupted in cheers.

***

"Somewhere there's a picture and video of Spock without a shirt, helmet on head, and the number 9 painted on his chest." McCoy whispered in Jim's direction as they drove home.

It was dark, and the stars twinkled overhead as a warm breeze flitted through Jim's open-top Jeep.

"Who would've thought he'd actually be fun?" Jim tossed a look over his shoulder to the man sprawled across the seat behind him. Spock was asleep.

Sulu and Chekov were weaving in and out of traffic in front of them in their tiny car on the ride home. McCoy and Spock rode with Jim for the luxury of leg room.

"So what's the plan now Captain?" The smirk could be heard in McCoy's voice. "We gonna haze him and teach him the secret handshake?"

Jim chuckled.

"If by hazing you mean subjecting him to Gaila's cooking on Sunday afternoon that can be arranged." Jim paused a moment before speaking his next thought.

"You know, I've been thinking. Maybe we should have tried this a long time ago, if we would have stepped up sooner a world of hurt and mistakes could have been avoided."

"Maybe…" McCoy mused, his voice low. He looked back at Spock, whose eyes and ears were now open and locked eyes with him.

He continued speaking.

"But sometimes the pain makes the lesson stick."


	14. Chapter 14

_This is it guys. I want to thank everyone who stuck with the story, despite my slow updates and massive delays. I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you LadyFangs for wearing the Beta hat. A special shout out to the ladies at WA who keep encouraging me to get better. Don't know what's next. So I'm not even going to make any promises. _

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 14 – In My Hands**

In the years that had passed Spock accepted and sometimes relished his role as outsider. He refused to cry or feel a lack of comfort because the ones Nyota called friends refused to welcome him in their precious inner sanctum. In a period of three months that had changed. He found himself locked in an embrace with Jim Kirk as the man said goodbye. A piece of him craved the companionship he had felt throughout the day with his new ... _friends_. The other part of Spock felt strangely uncomfortable and lightyears beyond his comfort zone. Leonard McCoy always the physician observed each and every unnecessary scratch Spock levied to his skin and the tugs and pulls at his clothing.

"Come inside, we should talk." The man's words were simple. None of the malice that previously punctuated his southern diction present. Yet it made Spock wonder if this was the conversation where McCoy would tell him to disappear – leave them alone – no one wanted him around. With heavy shoulders he followed the older man up the stairs and into the empty apartment. He could still smell Nyota and the pink bubblegum that Joanna loved to chew. The image of the two locked hand in hand made him smile and for once he didn't have a ping of regret. He was happy for her and the life she'd found.

The sound of glass tumbling and colliding pulled him from his thoughts. He saw the doctor, struggling to reach a bottle out of his reach. Spock moved to the kitchen, retrieved the item and handed it to McCoy."

"Freak." McCoy muttered before pouring two glasses and sliding one across the counter in Spock's direction.

Spock wasn't a drinker and from what he knew McCoy wasn't supposed to be any longer. "Don't look at me like that it's a drink between friends." McCoy raised his glass and Spock followed suit listening to the soothing chime. The liquid made his chest burn and he didn't refuse when the man poured a second round before replacing the top and returning the long neck bottle to its hiding place.

The two men settled in the quiet darkness of the living room.

"Thank you." The words seemed appropriate. After all McCoy did not have to invite him to join the rest of the men today. He did not have to pour him a drink or allow him beyond the threshold of his home.

"You're welcome." The lack of a snarky comeback surprised Spock again. His brow elevated and McCoy set up taking on the serious demeanor he was accustomed to seeing. Now it was time for the delivery of the bad news. "I have to apologize to you."

Spock couldn't breath. Words would not form and his thoughts were incoherent. "Excuse me?"

McCoy laughed, the locks of his hair shielding the amusement in his eyes. "Yes I'm apologizing to you." The man sat back after taking a long sip from his glass. "It's not easy being a father, Spock. You no longer have the luxury of your mistakes belonging just to you."

Spock allowed his head to roll forward in an attempt to avoid McCoy's eyes. The man continued. "Your father is a good man who fucked up more than once. You didn't have the luxury of two parents with a normal relationship. Hell most of us don't, but yours was a special brand of dysfunction. I'm sorry I wasn't more of a friend to you in the past."

He swallowed the lump in his throat and fought back the tears threatening to emerge from his eyes, "There is no need for the apology doctor. You," He paused, "Righted my wrongs in regards to Nyota's heart."

"No I didn't. I brought all of my broken pieces to the table and I allowed her to see me. I'm not some prince charming on a white horse. I'm a broken man who just knows I need that woman. It takes me and her and Joanna to make this family work."

Spock didn't know when McCoy moved or when his hand landed on his shoulder. "The lesson stuck. You know now what it means to love, lose, and grow from the experience. You'll be a better man because of it."

All he could do was nod. He was still having a problem with conveying exactly what he felt in the moment.

"I consider you my friend." McCoy made a move to grab Spock's hand. "I would trust you with the life of my girl's."

Spock could hear the emotion in the man's voice. He let his pride go and the tears cascaded down his cheeks. "I am honored." He whispered.

McCoy took a step back and pointed at the man seated before him, "Dinner tomorrow at five, Jim and Gaila's place. Bring the Tums."

Still wide – eyed and operating in a state of shock, Spock took the hand McCoy extended standing to his full height but shaking with the uncertainty of a toddler on untested legs. "I will see you tomorrow doctor."

"Now get the hell out of here and if you tell anybody I cried I'll inject your ass with something especially deadly."

Spock stepped into the night air for the first time in years full of anticipation and a strange sensation he recognized as hope. He was no longer held captive by the past or gaffes made by the hands of others. It was a new day and he had a say in his destiny.

* * *

The End

Love ya,

Ki a.k.a. _The Southern Scribe_


End file.
